Scarlet Vengeance
by HB rules
Summary: The secrets of the past are never truly buried. The truths which define us often come back, to haunt us later in life, and to exact their vengeance on who we have become.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone :) I was on holiday in Canada and have had the idea for this fic for what seems like a very long time. I had to write it down as soon as I came back, from fear of losing it completely, so I will continue with other fics asap; big writing weekend!**

**The first chapter is here and the second will be along very shortly, though in the mean time I would very much appreciate opinions even if this is the rather ambiguous opening. Much more to come, promise, as the next chapter just needs refining!**

**Hope you enjoy it, this has given me many sleepless nights trying to think of the words to perfect the idea and I hope it is ok... :)**

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><p><strong>Scarlet Vengeance<strong>

**Chapter 1**

The soft scents of spring, of blooming flowers basking in the bright affectionate light of the sun and new life taking in its first heavenly breath of fresh air, were long forgotten as fat slovenly droplets of rain pummelled unyieldingly at the ground. The sky which had once been set alight by the brilliant colours of a new morning was a damp and solemn grey, as the dull clouds masked the luminescent moon from the powerless abiding Earth.

The wind howled, the strangled cry of an angry animal in pain, hurtling through the air with a rage which knew no boundaries and held no prisoners to its mercy. It relished the destruction it knowingly caused, though no level of anarchy would ever be enough to satisfy such endless fury, regardless of what cost came in trying.

The Goddess of Weather herself was enraged, her livid screams the claps of thunder which shook the sky so violently. At her command, lightning struck the Earth to burn her sacred mark forever into the ground below. She banished the cool, fertile air of springtime and ordered chaos to follow in its wake; she had power which belonged to no other, as no-one else bore such a rage, and she was not afraid to impose it on her land.

But through it all, in the midst of the trees which wept in anguish standing amongst their dishevelled leaves, lay a castle of strong grey stone which hid between the creaking branches. It stood fast against the raucous bellowing of nature and lay down in the path of what would be a mighty storm: David and Goliath in battle. The castle embraced the power of the wind, brushed the falling teardrops sourced in woeful clouds from the roof and protected those who lay sleeping within from the cruel, harsh reality raging outside.

It was taken for granted, its rising turrets seen as prison watchtowers with only the purpose of confinement rather than places of comfort; yet in the segregation of this isolated place, the girls were safe. The castle, swathed in hundreds of years of magical history and prowess, stood as a shining beacon of hope and security and a shelter from the oncoming tempest.

As the weather destroyed its loyal kingdom, forcing the trees to bow down and tearing their branches until they stood baron and naked in the cold, Constance looked down from her own. She moved across her room to the open window, gliding effortlessly like a celestial goddess yet with an unquestionably certainty which could come only from someone in complete control. She understood, unlike so many others, why the weather turned in the blink of an eye to a portrayal of mindless rage and destruction; she knew because she had seen such deep anger in life, in others, in one woman she hoped never to meet again.

Constance rested her hands on the ledge of the window, feeling the cold rough surface of the stone beneath her fingertips. She liked the clear, sharp smell of rain as it splashed against the windowsill; it was a strong yet benign odour, one of a power which was present yet not necessary to yield. It remained there all the same, strong and deep in the brief scent it emitted as each droplet broke and shattered like glass.

It was easy to see what kind of person Constance Hardbroom was simply from looking; at least, it was simple to see the person who resided on the surface. She held her head up high; self respect and dignity were two qualities which she carried with her always like treasured possessions. The way she stood, her straight laced posture with an expression which would give nothing away, gave her a natural power and authority. She, like nature itself, had the capability to use her strength and skill to dominate and destroy, though she wore a wise head upon her shoulders; she needed to. Anyone who had lived the life she had led so far without her level-headed intelligence would surely have been driven to insanity.

The impossible truths of who Constance really was were hidden, lying locked away liked prisoners of war and the burden was left for her alone to bear. No-one could completely forget their past, discarding all of the memories to start life a fresh; the knowledge of what we have done influences our lives at present, and that could not apply more to anyone than Constance.

Every day she was reminded, her youth like a dark cloud hanging over her that only she could see and forcing a weight upon her shoulders that no-one could ever know she bore. She often wondered if they would see her differently if they knew, if they could read her life like that torn and frayed pages of an old battered book to discover the answers to questions they had not even thought to ask. That was why she kept the knowledge to herself; she couldn't stand sympathy. It was poison to her ego and everything she had worked so hard to protect and to conceive would crumble down around her, falling like the great Empire of Rome until only vacant buildings, the echoes of the woman she tried to be, would remain.

Having played the part for so long, even Constance did not know what truly lay beneath. She worked so hard to keep the mask, to hold it together on the days where she could easily have fallen apart, that she had become at one with it. Had one known Constance before her sixteenth birthday, they would not have recognised her now; she had changed, become something she never wanted to be and who nobody could ever even like because it was kinder than the truth.

She could have been beautiful had she ever allowed a genuine smile to soften her features and illuminate her face, or her ebony curls to hang loose around her shoulders rippling like waves on the ocean. Her face was too pale, her eyes holding back the bright spark of passion and wit which had would once have lit up a thousand skies.

The potions mistress had rejected any image of beauty a long time ago, hiding beneath long, thick black dresses through fear of being liked, or worse: of being loved.

No, fear was not something that she had ever admitted to nor felt the need to embrace, for she had learned many years since that fear brought nothing but darkness to already hopeless situations; she had needed to learn. When you're drowning in a pool which seems to have no end, to thrash is only to distress yourself further; Constance could think of no better analogy for her youth. It was a lesson she had required not just for her peace of mind, but for her survival.

Constance's long, thin fingers moved to the taught braided bun which sat in silence atop her head. She began the long and arduous process of releasing the dark curls from their imprisonment; she had adapted long ago so that she did not feel the agony of each moment as her tight scalp throbbed. As her fingers worked now, she ignored the stabbing pains which radiated across her head.

Pain was a weakness that so many took for granted, though which Constance had sworn never to indulge in. It had become her normal state of mind; pain, for so long, had been a part of her life and now it was part of who she was. Her younger self would have cursed her words, the undercurrent of self loathing in every action against her body; that was a different her, a different girl from another world who could never understand.

The wind caught the first loose tendrils in its mighty grasp and as the rest was freed she allowed it to be caught, the breeze brushing gently against her cheek despite its power. Constance folded her arms regally across her chest, a queen looking out across her land; something was not right. She could feel it, how something did not sit right although she had not seen or heard anything untoward. Constance trusted very few things in life, but her instincts were the only things she had true faith in; to her knowledge, they had never been wrong.

She looked past the rain, through the haze which hung like smoke in the air and into the night

beyond. Even with the eyes she had taught to tune in like a hawk to any obscurity on the widest of scales, nature would not allow her to look deeply into the night. The darkness, she feared, held more secrets and evil tonight than she would ever wish to know.

Constance knew that they were protected and that no-one should want to harm a school of girls, but the voice of reason seemed to sing a muted tune beneath the chorus of alarm bells. She felt a shiver reach down her spine, as though a droplet of icy water was crawling down her back where no-one was ever allowed to reach. She was not scared, she was never scared, but something about this night unnerved her more than she cared to admit even to herself. It was the feeling, as she took one final glance from the window, that if she turned away then she would turn her back on an unseen enemy.

Xxx

The rain was like a chorus of drums as the droplets hit the leaves on the ground or which clung desperately to the strongest branches. The darkness watched as Constance turned away from her window and retreated into her own shadows; only it wasn't just the darkness which was looking on.

A figure moved almost soundlessly across the leaves, darting between shadows and hiding as they watched the castle walls with malicious precision. The figure wore a thick black travelling cloak, with the hood pulled over to mask their face though no-one was around to see and all that was visible through the night was the impossibly bright glint of their eyes. There was something deep in those eyes, something pure and reckless; not a combination of perfect harmony.

The figure placed a gloved hand on the rough bark of the tree and dared to move closer to the edge of the forest. The hunger, the desire to move now and invade the castle silently like a virus was almost overwhelming. But no, the plan was set. Everything was in motion, and as the cloaked stranger blended once more back into the shadows, becoming lost to the night as they wished it to be, they allowed a smile to creep across their covered face.

It was a knowing smile, one which warned of dark days ahead for Constance Hardbroom.

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><p><strong>Yes, I know, ambiguous but the next chapter will be up very soon and whilst waiting for that, you could, oh I don't know, possible spend a few minutes telling me what you thought? :)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again :) Sorry for slight delay, stupid illness. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! It means a lot that people actually read my mental ramblings lol.**

**Here is the next chapter (if you hadn't already guessed that!) Let me know what you think as it was rather awkward to write :S Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

She turned away from the window and walked towards her bed, though still felt the stare of the vacant window burning into her back. It was a cruel and mocking gaze, one of something which held all of the answers to confirm or deny the churning discomfort in her mind yet refused to relinquish them. The truth lay in the hazy darkness, between the raindrops falling ever faster towards the Earth from the darkening sky which seemed to chatter in a language only they could decipher as they fell to their deaths on the cold unforgiving ground.

Constance looked at her bed, the thin blanket folded neatly and with precision across a thin mattress; it offered no warmth or comfort, just a place to indulge in the rituals one had to in order to survive. The simple life was one Constance had chosen a long time ago, rarely allowing herself the small pleasures that others took for granted every day.

Everything she did and every habit she had formed stemmed from the years she had spent in the confines of the Witch Training College, though she tried with all of her strength to deny it. She had walked out of that building as someone else, someone whom she had at first barely recognised yet now had come to understand and, in part, accept. Constance blamed herself for all of her deepest regrets, for losing the life she could have otherwise had. In a way by never allowing herself the indulgences of life, the extra hour in bed when she had time off or the bittersweet taste of wine after a difficult day, she was serving her own justice and punishing herself for misgivings she could not accept were not her own.

Of course, that was the Constance that no-one got to see. That was the woman behind the mask, a fragile and vulnerable woman with the past consuming her with guilt and self loathing; sometimes she seeped onto the disguise she wore daily, but not often. Even when she did, no-one knew more about her than she allowed them to know, so nobody asked and nobody questioned her.

From time to time, they noticed how she rarely ate or how she would stay awake all night just to avoid the haunting dreams, but they never asked. In this way, and in most ways, Constance was very much alone. She pretended far too often that she didn't mind, even that she liked it that way; every once in a very long while, she would steal the wish that someone, anyone, would dare to dig deeper and realise that the mask was not unbreakable, but impossibly fragile and given the right calming touch of a person she could call a friend it would surely shatter.

She knew now staring vacantly at the bed that slumber would bring nothing to her but unwanted dreams, plaguing her thoughts until she woke and shaking her for hours afterwards. Flexing her fingers, Constance watched as golden sparks flew from the tips and tried to clear her frantic mind. She closed her eyes, banishing all of her troubled thoughts to a place where they would not roam free, and concentrated only on the spell she was attempting to cast.

Her hands moved through the air as though she was conducting an orchestra, with grace and elegance that few would have guessed could come from such a stern and hard faced woman. As she opened her eyes, she watched as a great ball of cracking fire formed and hovered in the air before her. It illuminated the room, casting shadows on the walls and even drowning the persistent patter of the rain outside with its gentle roar.

From the main orb, fingers of flame reached out and extended to the ground where they morphed into gracious creatures. A deer with its head raised high walked majestically around the room emitting a powerful glow and a hawk rose burning brightly, flying up to the ceiling and circling overhead; but it was not enough.

Constance knew that something was wrong and could not truly dismiss her own concerns by locking them away in the depths of her guarded soul. The deer stopped to look at her, turning its head to the side and staring deeply into her own uncertain eyes. It could offer no comfort, the fire not even warm as she reached to touch it; she didn't know why she had tried, knowing perfectly well that the creature was of her own creation. Yet as her fingers became intertwined in the flames she did feel something, a connection which made her gasp and pull away. The orb fizzled to nothing, the animals which had once danced so regally before her fading to nothing and the last light to die was where the deer's eyes had been, still watching her and trying to tell her what it never could in words, and perhaps what she already knew.

Standing for a moment, Constance took short deep breaths to try to calm her beating heart. It was ridiculous, she knew, to feel so unnerved by things she did not even understand and she felt hot embarrassment rise to her cheeks as she realised her magic had, for the first time in a long while, failed her. It was her lack of concentration which had led to the spell's demise and she scolded herself, even daring to mutter aloud and digging her nails uncomfortably into her palm; she would not rest that night.

Gathering her books and papers, she vanished into thin air and materialised at the long table in the dark and lifeless staffroom. She waved her casting fingers and a single candle appeared on the table, burning with a meagre light which barely broke the mighty hold darkness had taken across the room. She sat at the table, conjuring a pen from nowhere, and set her mind to the only thing which would not suffer from her wandering mind.

The monotony of work was like her own guilty pleasure in a way, though it was not quite an indulgence as it had to be done. Her mind worked in overdrive for so much of the day that getting the chance simply to sit and write or mark books was the only chance she got to relax and escape, taking a strange comfort in knowing that she would find nothing untoward between the pages, simply innocence and sometimes sparks of genuine intelligence. To her, as she sat writing with only the scratch of pen against paper to disturb her ears, the world seemed to stop. Time seemed not to pass, with the endless raging of the weather becoming part of her surroundings and everything seeming, for once, to be connected in peace.

Yet still she could not shake the feeling nesting deep within that something was watching her. Constance had always been able to sense such things, though only once before had it been as strong and restless as it was now.

She remembered all too well when she had looked up at the building before her, high and mighty with such promise and hope seeping from its walls. Everyone around her was excited, buzzing with happiness and the daring feeling of uncertainty which came with the opportunity they had been given; their lives had begun. But Constance had lingered for a moment outside the wrought iron gates, simply staring at the dull granite structure with unsettling thoughts swimming around her mind. She was young, younger than those around her, though she felt that as though as their lives were beginning hers was coming to its end.

There was something, a malevolent force, hidden between the blocks of stone which seemed to hiss to her like the call of a snake before it attacks and she knew that it was aimed at her. Constance had wanted to run, to leave this dark place and stay away to protect her fragile body; she had known that this was not an option. Had it just been for her, she would have run a thousand miles to get away and if it was only her own happiness at stake, she would never even have looked back; but it wasn't. There was more lying on her decision to walk through those gates and to end this part of her life than anyone would ever know and that was why, in one final selfless act of her innocent youth, she took a deep breath and walked in.

Xxx

Amelia woke early, just as the sun dared to creep over the horizon and shine its weak light through the gaps which had formed in the dark storm clouds. Only for an hour would it give this light before fading beneath the thick clouds and going into hiding once more. The rain had finally relented, though the echoes of its power glistened maliciously in the puddles which covered the sodden ground; the chaos was far from over, this was a simple interlude in the symphony of anarchy.

She walked leisurely to the staffroom, taking time along the way to gaze at the beauty of the morning from the many open windows which graced the castle walls and to think of the day ahead. It was at this point, at the beginning of the final term of the year, where the headmistress felt most at ease. The girls needed less guidance as they began preparation for end of term exams and took on more independence and things seemed to run their course fluently like a boat sailing silently across a calm ocean.

As Amelia walked into the room, she was surprised to see her deputy sat at her usual spot on the table, head bent over and hand scratching words furiously onto the page, surrounded by piles of work which almost concealed her from view. Her hair was in its usual bun, scraped back in a gesture which Miss Cackle often thought unnecessary for the pain it must cause, and she wore another of her black dresses; she looked, in other words, as she always did every morning. Then why was it that this morning felt different?

'Good Morning, headmistress,' Constance said lightly without looking up. Amelia moved across to make herself a cup of tea, though her eyes would not leave Constance's image. She wondered how long the younger woman had been there, sitting alone and in silence working diligently neither through need or the desire for acknowledgement; it seemed so unusual to her, even after having known the woman for so long.

'Have you been there all night, Constance?' she asked carefully, taking the cup into her hands and feeling its warmth tingle at her fingertips. Constance lifted her head as she added the paper to one of the piles and turned to the headmistress. Her eyes gave nothing away, no hint of tiredness or anxiety, but though there were no bags beneath her eyes she gave the distinct impression of an unease Constance had attempted to suppress through work.

'Yes,' she answered simply, as though there was nothing wrong with such a reply.

Amelia sighed heavily, though she could still not place why she thought it so impossible. The deputy headmistress was hard working to say the least, and it was not out of character for her to continue through the night. Perhaps it was as a woman who knew the value of relaxation and the importance of taking a break that she worried for Constance's health as much as her state of mind.

'Constance, you shouldn't work so hard all of the time,' Amelia told her with the same concern a mother holds for a child. She had thrown caution to the wind and, mistakenly, chosen not to tiptoe around the matter or air on a side of welcomed caution.

'Why not?' Constance asked abruptly. Amelia knew that her reply would not be appreciated and almost prepared herself for the anger it would bring.

'Because everyone needs a break, Constance. It is no way to live your life, working constantly and removing yourself from company to do more work on your own; it isn't healthy.'

The words meant with kindness hit Constance like a sharp blow to the side of the face. She could not explain why they meant so much; it was, after all, the truth. She had tried so hard not to completely accept what she was doing, throwing herself into what she found relaxing and what came naturally to her to avoid addressing deeper issues, yet now it was becoming harder. Of course she did not need to work through the night, but it distracted a mind which was already buzzing with too many troubling thoughts and memories. She could have been powerful, head of the Witches' Guild if she wanted to be with the skill she held, but she needed no more than a pile of work and a pen with which to write; that was possibly the saddest thought she had dared to have in years.

'My life,' she replied eventually, 'and how I live it is my business, nobody else's, and I would prefer it if it was kept that way.' The tone which should have been filled with malice and harsh criticism was surprisingly soft and resigned, something which stunned Miss Cackle to the point of speechlessness. There were so many things that she wanted to say, things she had thought if she had been shouted down she would be able to voice to try and get her point across. Now, she wondered if she had hurt feelings her deputy must harbour deep beneath her usual stoic self and Amelia decided against pressing the matter further.

An awkward silence hung in the air as Constance continued working and Amelia drank her tea. The sun was wrestled behind forceful clouds, the last rays of light desperate cries for help which would go as always unheeded; the world became dark once more. Miss Cackle laid down her empty cup and wandered over to the place where new letters were delivered each day, picking up the stack which had appeared unseen earlier that morning.

One letter held the crest from the Witches' Guild burned into the wax which sealed the envelope. Intrigued by an impromptu message from the highest authority, the headmistress tore open the envelope and read the words it bore three times so as not to miscomprehend them.

'What does it say?' Constance asked from across the room; it never failed to amaze Amelia how she seemed to pick up on anything and everything even when her mind was focused elsewhere.

'Someone from the Guild will be visiting the school shortly, to deliver forms concerning a matter of the most urgent importance,' Amelia informed her deputy. She looked up, her face a shade paler through the anxiety which came over her whenever she imagined the school to be at risk.

'It doesn't say what the matter is,' Amelia added.

'I am sure that whatever it is, that it is no need for concern,' Constance said, brushing off the matter with an impossible level of calmness which Amelia had never learned to mirror. She looked at the next envelope in the stack, made of thick and heavy parchment and signed in a calligraphic hand she did not recognise.

'Constance, there is a letter here for you.' Sighing in frustration at the interruption, Constance rose from the chair and took the letter with from the headmistress who went to sit down by the fire she ignited with a flick of her wrist to go through the various bills which remained in her hand.

Constance felt the heavy weight of the envelope in her hand before analysing the unfamiliar style with which her name had been written. The feeling within her became suddenly stronger, her instincts telling her with all of the influence they could muster not to open the letter; she ignored it. Refusing to allow fear of what she did not see to be a threat to rule her judgement she opened the envelope, only there was no paper contained within it. Constance reached her hand into the envelope and pulled out a large item made from glinting gold and held it in her open palm.

A golden necklace sat in her hand, the thin wiry chain spilling like water through the gaps between her fingers to reach for the ground. She felt warmth which should not come from such an object pass into her and looked closely at the two letters engraved into the heart-shaped locket at the end of the chain.

AH

Constance felt her heart stop in her chest and the colour drain from her face. Those two letters on a locket meant only one thing to her, yet it was impossible. It was more than impossible, it just simply could not be true even in the realms where imagination was king. A name she had not heard in years flashed across her mind and the images which came with that name almost brought age old tears to her eyes, tears that she could not as the person she was now rightly shed.

The locket fell from her hand as though in slow motion, crashing to the floor though not being harmed and leaving those two letters still staring callously at her with their impossible meaning. Breath was caught in her chest and her hands shook, trembling with the weight of what was coming back to her after so long. Memories from years before resurfaced and forced themselves violently to the front of her mind; it was as close to scared as she would ever admit she had come.

Amelia looked across at Constance, who was staring down at the floor with one hand wavering over her chest. She was pale and her eyes, though still hiding what she was truly feeling, glimmered unnaturally with something the headmistress had never seen before; was it her way of showing fear?

'Constance, are you all right?' With that, Constance forced herself to snap back into the woman she was supposed to be, reaching out her fingers to summon the locket from the floor to her hand; it obliged unquestioningly. Once more, she felt its unusual warmth between her fingers as she pressed it into her palm.

'Perfectly, headmistress,' she lied, as though she had been doing it for her entire life; which of course, in a way, she had.

'I just need to sort this out before the morning begins; excuse me.' With that, she folded her arms and disappeared, vanishing into the air as though she had never even been there and leaving Amelia lost in confusion. She felt more worried for her deputy than she had felt in a long time, since the day she had appointed her as potions mistress many years ago. She did not know whether to address her concerns or to leave them, though she suspected that they would not be as well received as her earlier remarks. Her concern never left the back of her mind, and she would draw on this anxiety more and more in the coming days though she did not yet know it.

Xxx

Constance materialised in her room, throwing the locket down immediately onto her desk. She couldn't look at it, turning away as though the necklace's mere sight would cause her harm. She felt like crying, as though the answer to all of her problems was to sit on her bed and let the tears, which were long overdue, fall silently onto her lap; but no.

It wasn't her, it wasn't who she was and it never would be. The locket would remain hidden, banished to a corner of her chamber where she could at least try to forget about it. In time, she would destroy it, but as soon as she was sure that whatever memories it brought with it, it was not about to affect her life now; she couldn't live through that again.

The sun finally succumbed to the power of the clouds which suffocated it beneath their weight and blocked out the last weak rays of cascading light. They knew what was coming, the storm which rumbled across the hills and moved ever closer. They even knew what the storm brought, what secrets it held and what trouble it would cause, but it could never tell the truth. Sworn to silence, it complained with a violent gust of wind which rattled through the broken trees and welcomed another morning.

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><p><strong>I know, not only cruel cliffhanger but more unanswered questions! Seems to be a theme of this fic lol :)<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Hellooo again :) Cookies etc. and sorry for the wait again, this chapter has been more than a nightmare. I decided to publish what I have so far and put the rest into 4, which WILL be up soon; I hope :)**

**Let me know what you think as I never know if it is any good *hides from NCD's pillow***

**Enjoy :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Night drew on, the twelfth moon which had risen since Constance had last felt the deep calm which came with sleep shimmering eerily between the darkened clouds. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as though it would provide the answer to the questions which ran through her buzzing mind. That feeling which knew no satisfaction and only unquiet was ever present in her mind, and even in the confines of a locked and protected room with only an open window to connect her to the rest of the world, she felt as though someone was watching her every move; every time her chest rose and fell she wondered if someone else could see her and this sensation only deepened with every silent waking moment dragging on as though it could last forever.

Constance had many times before challenged her own body by dismissing the need for sleep, busying herself with things which she deemed far more immediately important than the human weakness which she hated to admit was necessary for survival; but this was different. Never had she gone so long and relied so heavily on Wide Awake Potion, something which had required her to very reluctantly swallow her pride. She was distracted, irritable and she could tell that others had noticed; she didn't know what to do, or what was causing such an unusual phenomenon, and that was what stung her most of all.

There was a last resort which she had been putting to the back of her mind for many days now, but as she felt her head tighten and her eyes burn with the yearning for rest she realised that it was her only remaining option. Taking a deep breath, Constance adjusted her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, channelling her magic from its usual hold in her fingertips to the centres of her mind. She used its great power to manipulate her brain, forcing herself to be pulled into the murky realms of slumber. It was dangerous, very dangerous, for a witch to use her magic to manipulate her mind and she knew this, but she felt that she could go on no longer with the feeling of insufferable weakness which had gripped her body for far too long.

As she was pulled into the unexplored horizon of the unknown, she dreamt of a girl who she knew all too well. It was a memory she had not called upon for years, lying dormant in the back of her mind like a sleeping lion; and now it was ready to roar. It did not seem like a dream, the sensation of everything around her too real and vivid for her own imagination yet Constance knew that it could not be real; she could not live through this again.

Standing on the bridge, she could feel the harsh cold wind biting at her cheeks and tugging her long dark hair away from her pale face. The sky was grey, a blank canvas offering no light as she looked across in horror and anguish; this could not be happening. The thoughts of a fifteen year old girl came rushing black like flood waters breaking over river banks, the insecurity and fear that Constance did not know that she had experienced. She heard herself talking, begging and pleading until her voice was lost to the bitter wind and tears which were strangers to her now fell softly down her trembling face.

Constance was pulled back into the waking world with violence, sitting bolt upright and clutching her heaving chest which moved quickly as she tried to steal any air she could to replenish her screaming lungs. She felt perspiration hot and wet on her forehead, a droplet of sweat stroking the side of her face as she tried in vain to calm down; it was undignified to act this way, though she could not stop herself. She brushed her hair away from her face, but it fell defiantly back across her shoulders like curtains drawing to hide her shameful outburst. Her throat constricted, pained from when she had so obviously cried out through it all and she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

And the most crushing truth was that Constance could tell that only moments had passed since she had closed her eyes to hope for sleep; she had gained nothing in a battle she had lost, falling wounded at the first frontier. It was a discredit to a demeanour she had, until then, had complete faith in.

Leaving her bed, she staggered unsurely into the bathroom and grabbed the porcelain sink with both hands as though if she let go she would surely fall. Constance dared to look up into the mirror which reflected her deepest insecurities. Her face was several shades too pale, her eyes worn and submissive with a glint of desperation which had never before laid there; this was not the woman that she needed to be. She splashed water, as cold as ice and a welcome shock to her senses, onto her ghostly face and closed her eyes whilst breathing deeply.

Constance scolded herself inwardly; she had to hold it together. She needed to be strong, to be who everyone expected her to be and to rise above such a ridiculous trial of the strength she knew she had within her. Why was it so hard? She had never felt such a weight which seemed to try to drag her body down to the floor, she had never wanted just to curl into a ball and be left alone to wallow; this was something different and she hated it, as much as she hated the reflection staring like a ghost at her from the mirror.

The moon smiled from its hiding place behind the clouds, emitting such a bright glow that it had to be mocking her. It knew what was coming and it knew it well, beaming at the cloaked figure who watched silently from within the forest. It delighted in the chaos it watched and could not wait until the day, which could never come too soon, where Constance would meet an enemy with whom she would be reluctant to fight and never win against; her darkest hour.

Xxx

Morning came slowly, drawn out like the last days of a terminal illness as the hours seemed to drag on for longer than forever. Watching the beginning of a new day, as light however meagre began to fall upon the thankful leaves and animals began to awaken from slumber, should have been a privilege. The first movements of the chirruping birds brought life to the motionless landscape which seemed to have frozen overnight, like a freeze-frame captured which waited until the morning light to come to life.

It was beautiful, a great gift of nature despite its childlike simplicity. It was a true, untainted natural wonder, one of the last true remaining; but to Constance it was just the start of another day which she would struggle through whilst the rest of the world carried on obliviously. Another day where the weight of tiredness would pull her closer to the precipice of an abyss from which no-one could even think of saving her from.

Constance looked with reluctance in the mirror, touching at her hair to make sure that not one strand was out of place; if her mask cracked then there was no hope for the trembling woman behind it. She tried to stop her eyes from wandering to her pale face, but the pearly glow it emitted seemed to draw her line of vision like moths to a flame. She could not help but stare in disgust at her own white flesh, radiating anything but beauty, to the point where her eyes grew tired.

Her gaze wandered down to her body, which although she had never really bothered to take note of she could still see was changing. She was thinner, the dark silk which had once clung like a firm embrace to her frame now hanging on with all it could muster; they would notice. Food had been the last thing on her mind, a needless distraction from her duties and her body, thought it rarely yearned for anything, was suffering without it.

Constance conjured an apple in her hand without a thought, though simply stared at it as her stomach churned. She could not explain it, a sentiment which had become over the past two weeks her mortal enemy, but she could not bring herself to take even a bite. It was as though her mind sensed poison coursing within the apple's juices, a danger she could not see; whatever it was, the mere thought of tasting the bittersweet fruit brought nausea like a wave crashing to the shores of her mind and she made it vanish before her eyes. Looking at herself one more time, she waved her hand slowly over her face and closed her eyes, feeling a warm tingling sensation envelop her entire body. When Constance opened her eyes, you could not tell that there was anything wrong. When people looked at her, they would have no idea of the torment behind the doors she had closed to the rest of the world.

Xxx

Miss Hardbroom was in the potions laboratory hours before her students even woke. As they filed in, chatting absent-mindedly without a care in the world, Constance simply sat with her elbows rested on her desk. She raised her head from its gentle perch upon her hands and rotated her stiff neck in circles; her eyes begged to close, but she denied them that luxury.

'Right girls, as you all know that you have exams in a few weeks,' Constance started, though as she spoke her throat seemed to tighten. She was forced to clear her throat with a painful cough before continuing.

'Today will be the first of many practice tests, so put away your books and start on the Advanced Healing Potion we learnt at the start of term.' She heard the muffled whispers, the cursed words they threw in her direction when they thought she could not hear. The girls reluctantly started their potions, but every angered glance they gave to her when it seemed her head was turned seemed like an arrow penetrating deeper than any of them would know. Her mind a fog of a weakness she couldn't accept, each time she felt them state their hate for her she felt it hurt like it had never hurt before.

The minutes passed without haste, the heat from the slowly simmering cauldron seeming to burn in the air and the smoke danced in circles like gymnasts twirling ribbons making patterns on the ceiling. Constance sat, staring at nothing in particular and pleading with the bell to finally ring and release her, at least for a minute or two.

It was the strangest feeling, as though she had simply been cut off from the world. Her vision faltered, blurring for a second before everything turned the darkest most unyielding shade of never-ending black. Constance felt her body disconnect, the dizziness plaguing her unsettled mind almost painful as she became lost in an abyss she could not explain. She could not tell where up was, or whether there was an up; she seemed to be floating into nothingness, her mind cast off like a boat wandering out to sea alone.

The pain came afterwards, stabbing bursts like needle pricks emerging from the darkness and overwhelming her; the lone boat crashed to the seabed. She wanted to scream, the constant agony was something she had never before experienced and it was too much, her breath being torn from her lungs with the shock; she wondered if she was dying.

'Miss Hardbroom?'

Her eyes snapped open and she found, to her relief, that she had no more than closed her eyes. Constance was still sat on the chair, though her hands grasped the wooden arms with such fierce desperation that the white bone of her knuckles shone through like ghostly warnings. Her head still pounded, her chest burning as though ablaze; but she was awake and, to her shameful relief, alive.

'Yes, Ethel,' she managed in the scathing tone that everyone had come to hate. Ethel shifted uncomfortably in her seat, not used to being on the end of the potion mistress' icy demeanour.

'The bell, Miss Hardbroom.' It took only a second for her to realise, but as Constance's eyes flicked to the clock she noticed that she must have missed the end of the lesson. Hot embarrassment rose to her cheeks, a twinge of shame resonating in her searing heart; but she couldn't let it affect her.

'Right girls, leave your potions for marking and revise for another test tomorrow; class dismissed.'

Constance heard their groans, though felt their compliance and as they rose to leave she wondered how none of them had noticed. She had, as was expected of her, held it together when others would have merely fallen apart. In almost persistent ignorance, she denied for the rest of the day what had happened; if only to herself.

Weakness was like a dagger to her heart, one that could not be tolerated and which was far more painful than the headache which followed her for the rest of the day. It was not exactly a fear of things changing, but something deeper and more genuine; the way an old woman with Alzheimer's refuses to believe that she needs help, that she is on the path which spirals down to death and still holds on to a dignity she can feel slipping from her grasp. Constance blocked the memory of that lesson from her mind, hoping to forget and struggle on as if nothing had happened; but when your world is taken over, you cannot deny everything.

Xxx

The next afternoon, Imogen Drill stepped out onto the slippery cobbles of the courtyard and looked begrudgingly at the sky. It had rained all through the night and for most of the morning and she felt as though the weather was taunting her, refusing to relinquish its hold over her planned events. She stared at the sky, grey and lifeless, and she could swear that it was mocking her.

Miss Cackle stood beside Imogen, trying to work out what she was looking for.

'It seems we will be able to hold the tournament after all Miss Drill,' she said cheerily. Imogen looked at her, her face contorted with confusion.

'Surely not Miss Cackle, the ground is far too wet and it could start raining again.'

'Imogen,' said Amelia smiling, 'you forget that we have a greater capability to control such matters; Constance can sort it out.'

'Could you not do it Amelia?' Imogen asked curiously. Amelia sighed a little but her face was still warm with a smile that never seemed to tire her face.

'I am good at a great deal of things, but weather is a very dangerous force to reckon with. It is no secret that Constance is a far more powerful witch than I and she is fully aware of it,' Miss Cackle confessed lightly.

Her deputy's skill never failed to astound her, even after so long; she had never quite understood why it was that she had never taken a position of higher power. Yet in the context of the school, they worked as the perfect combination of warmth, understanding and unquestionable dexterity and for that reason, Amelia did not envy the immense amount of magic she held at her command.

Constance materialised silently beside the headmistress with her arms folded across her chest as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

'You called, headmistress?' Imogen jumped slightly and turned her head to see the potions mistress standing as if she had always been there and for a second she could swear she saw a glint of a smirk ghost across Constance's face.

'Yes Constance, I was wondering what you could do about the weather,' Amelia explained. Constance sighed heavily, and moved her hand in a circular motion without the needs for words. A Small ball of pure white light appeared and hovered in the air, waiting for instructions. At her command, it soared like an eagle into the air and disappeared into the clouds. Imogen and Amelia watched in awe, as though a great spectacle was unfolding before them; Constance simply watched the sky, unfazed by her own remarkable skill.

When it returned, Constance looked deep into the ball before it disappeared. She raised her arms again and the water still glistening across the castle like a blanket of diamonds vanished, leaving only a wisp of smoke which faded, dying into the sky.

'There will be no further rain until this evening and the ground is now safe for the girls to use,' she stated bluntly before folding her arms and vanishing from sight once more. Imogen stared after her; though she would never admit it, she was not only appreciative of Constance's obvious talent but envious of it.

They had never even suspected. Perhaps it was that their minds were on other more important things, too preoccupied to notice, or perhaps it was just that they didn't think that anything could shake such a strong and stoic woman. Whether it was one or the other, whether it was one of a million possibilities, they didn't notice the colour drain from the potion mistress' face. They didn't realise the hint of immediacy in her voice as she disappeared and they would never know how much a kind word would have meant, even if it had not been accepted.

Xxx

Constance appeared in her room, the world spinning around her like an endless vortex. She stumbled, her legs feeling light and unable to take even her meagre weight; it was as if she was falling, the ground beneath her feet not steady and the world moving further from her grasp as she reached out to hold on to anything which could spare her dignity from crumbling with her.

Anyone else would have just succumbed to the mind-numbing pain which was beginning to creep from nowhere and take over Constance's body. They would see no point in fighting a losing battle and let the awful dizziness take hold, let it drag them to the floor as they relished in the awful relief of unconscious sleep; not Constance. She fought with everything she had, all of the magic in her body lashing out against the force she could neither see nor understand, her mind defiant that she would not be defeated.

She stayed upright and unwavering for almost five agonising minutes before she lost the battle she had never really been able to fight. She bit down hard on her lip, suppressing a shattering scream as she fell like a dove of pure, virgin white falling from the sky. Her head hit the cold stone hard, the horrible taste of blood invading her mouth as she tried in vain to make her useless body respond. Constance lay down, never giving up the fight but for the first time in too long on the verge of banished tears, until a dark veil seemed to descend over her and force her weary eyes to close.

Nobody else knew. They didn't even know she was gone. As she lay on the floor, drowning in darkness, nobody even asked where she was.

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><p><strong>Looking forward to next chapter: We find out at least half of what AH means, and the netball tournament doesn't exactly go to plan...<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello readers! Thank you for reading the latest chapter and I hope you will enjoy it. Whatever you may read, I really do love HB as a character and although she has a few...difficult times ahead it is necessary for the plot XD**

**Enjoy and please let me know what you think :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Constance pulled herself from the darkest depths of forceful slumber. As she commanded her reluctant eyes to open her senses screamed back to her, everything she could feel or taste bursting to life within her and overwhelming her body with shock. She could feel the cold stone against her aching head where she had fallen, the taste of blood metallic and repulsive in her mouth; she stole a moment of not quite self pity, but of shame at her own futile weakness. This wasn't who she was, a woman fallen in despair to the ground.

She was supposed to be strong, a powerful witch with the fear and respect of everyone she knew; even those who dared to call themselves her friends. From the beginning of her life until that moment, she had always believed that she was infallible. She saw herself as a force, a woman without the need for emotions or tedious relationships because she only had to rely on herself; others only seemed to hold her back. Now she needed someone's help but that truth, now hollow and meaningless, was her pride, her identity, and she didn't think that she could let it go.

With effort she did not truly possess, Constance pushed her agonised body from the ground biting down hard on her already bleeding lip in desperation, the only thing between her managing to hold it all together or breaking down to cry out in pain she had never thought to be possible.

Her mind dared to flash back to where she had not been in years, in the corner of a darkened room with ceilings so high that it seemed to stare out into the night sky itself. She was young, too young to know why this was happening, but she would soon learn how it had to be. She trembled, quaking as she closed her eyes as though she was a child again and that feigning blindness would banish the demons surrounding her.

Hearing the footsteps growing closer, crisp and clear in the vacant air; no-one was coming to help her, they pretended that they didn't know she was there to try to selfishly save themselves. She heard the muttered words of a spell, a spell she knew from the very first word and her blood ran colder than ice through her veins. Constance knew what was going to happen moments before it did, before the pain took over her body and she fell slowly into the endless chasm of unconsciousness to the sound of her own echoed screams.

Pulling herself back into the uncertain darkness of the present, Constance managed to force herself to stand. Her legs protested, their physical weakness the fatal flaw despite a determined mind which fought for them to try, yet somehow she managed to stagger across the room to a hard wooden chair where she supported herself with what strength she could muster.

Allowing herself only moments to recover, her mind seemed to reset. She denied to herself that anything had happened, told herself that nothing was wrong and ignored the pain which refused to surrender even to her strongest will. Once her legs no longer shook she stood tall and proud again, her pounding head held high and her posture its usual perfection. With the casual flick of her wrist, Constance's hair was pulled back forcefully into a tight braided bun and the cut to her lip vanished; she was the same stoic Miss Hardbroom again, as though nothing had ever happened.

Xxx

Mildred ran down the stairs, the loose plait unable to indefinitely hold her hair in place, which threatened to fall across her face. Despite almost tripping on the penultimate step, Mildred managed to make it to the group of her friends waiting impatiently in front of the staffroom without accident or injury; for her, that was an achievement.

'Sorry,' she panted, trying to catch her breath, 'I had to feed Tabby before I got changed, then everything fell on the floor-'

'It's fine Millie,' Maud laughed, 'we have rather come to expect it.' Mildred gave a rather sheepish smile and tucked the first loose strands of hair behind her ears.

'Come on, we're going to be late,' Jadu warned them, looking at the clock which already betrayed their tardiness. They were about to depart when Enid stopped them.

'Wait,' she said abruptly, turning to Mildred and looking her up and down, 'Mil, where's your number?'

Mildred closed her eyes and let out a sigh. That morning, Miss Drill had gone around the breakfast table giving everyone out their numbers and positions for the tournament instructing them not to lose them; she had placed it on her bedside table where, she suspected, it continued to lie.

'I will be two minutes,' she promised apologetically, running back up the stairs as her friends watched in quiet amusement, shaking their heads. They knew their friend to well to expect her to be two minutes, but felt a loyalty to at least try and wait for her.

Xxx

Constance folded her arms and pictured precisely where she needed to be as she noticed the time glaring at her like a warning light from the clock mounted on her wall. She vanished in her normal fashion, fading into nothingness like a shadow dying in the light; but something was wrong. Her body was being pulled in different directions, the feel of the humid air outside in addition to the cold, stagnant air within the castle a juxtaposition which told her that she was in more than one place at once.

The sensation of being lost, atoms scattered amongst the air and existing beyond possibility in two places at a time was impossible and distressing. Constance focused her energy, trying to manipulate her body into one place as she began to panic. Her instincts were kicking in as she started to suffocate in the space between two existences, neither in one position or the next, wondering darkly whether death could come to a body which had vanished into thin air never to return.

As she thought her mind was beginning to crumble, caught in an endless void for what could have lasted anything from a second to a year, she felt her body shift. Constance fell hard against the stone wall, relieved to be able to feel again yet perturbed by what had taken place. She managed to stay upright, leaning heavily against the castle wall with little stopping her from crumbling to the ground.

She tried, fighting every human instinct, to stand up straight but her head was no longer simply a haze but a thick fog. Her eyes refused to stay open let alone to acknowledge the now blurred visions of her surroundings and her head felt as if it weighed more than the rest of her body. It was not just pain now, but a force pulling her down and she could do nothing to stop it. Constance did not know where it was dragging her, or what would happen; all she could think about was the complete abyss of darkness and the awakening of memories that she thought she had buried.

Feeling a tickle beneath her nose, she raised her hand to her face subconsciously and pulled her eyes open to see the red rubies of blood now tainting her fingertip. At any other time, she would have dismissed it, but somehow she felt a difference in the icy scarlet liquid which told her undeniably that something was wrong. As soon as she felt the blood trickling like a raindrop down her face, Constance felt light headed and there was little that she could do to stop herself from sliding down the wall.

Xxx

Mildred walked quickly down the corridor, trying to reassure herself that she had not forgotten anything else and that she would get to the tournament almost on time. She came to the last corner before the staircase but stopped abruptly in her tracks, stifling a gasp as she saw Miss Hardbroom appear from nowhere as she so often seemed to. She stepped forward, already opening her mouth for an apology and a quick excuse when she noticed how her potions mistress had turned the colour of pure snow on a winter's day, the colour which was unnatural even for the sombre complexion of a corpse.

She watched in muted horror as the deputy headmistress reached to her bloodied nose and sank, fighting what appeared to be an agonising battle as she crumpled as though in slow motion to the floor, her hands like claws fighting yet failing to keep any hold on the stone wall. Mildred couldn't speak, couldn't breathe as her heart refused to beat in utter shock of what her brain perceived. It wasn't true, she told herself as she backed away, it had to be someone playing a trick.

Miss Hardbroom was her form mistress, the witch for whom she held such fear and yet such high regard for her persistence to at least try to make her into a better student; she couldn't fall like that, like a woman who was sinking into the depths of hell with nothing left with which to fight. That wasn't the person she knew and no matter how much she resented the bullying or the punishment, Mildred would have given anything to never have witnessed what she could only see as blasphemy to a good name.

Her heart pummelled her chest as she took a cautious step towards her form mistress. Her mind was shouting at her, every sense she had telling her to run away; but her warm heart ruled triumphant. Mildred couldn't leave knowing what she had left behind and could not bear to think what might happen if she did not at least try to help.

_But you hate her, she's never done anything to help you_.

It was a small voice, a cowardly voice of doubt which whispered to Mildred as she edged closer. Had she believed it, she could have left without the need for guilt, walking away as though nothing had happened; but she didn't believe it. As much as she wanted to acknowledge that Miss Hardbroom in some dark way deserved what she was getting, something in Mildred's mind would not allow her to accept it.

Somehow, deep down, she had already guessed that the potions mistress had not always been cold hearted. She knew without the need to be told that there was someone beneath the terrifying demeanour who was in her own way trying to help Mildred; she was not simply cold, nor was she as mean as she liked others to think. In that moment, the girl saw Miss Hardbroom as though in a new light; the veil, for a second, was lifted, and she felt truly sad that she had so misjudged her.

Standing beside the fallen deputy headmistress, Mildred knelt unsurely on the cold floor and tried to stop her mind from racing beyond her control. Truthfully, she did not have the faintest clue of what to do, but she could feel the immediacy of the situation to the point of a danger she could not even admit to herself.

Mildred reached for Miss Hardbroom's arm to check for a pulse, taking the thin and bony hand in her own. The flesh was so white, so without life that she could not help but feel slightly nauseous. Placing two fingers on Miss Hardbroom's wrist, she tried to find the weak thud of blood passing through her arteries. Mildred looked at Miss Hardbroom's chest to see if she was breathing, but any colour which had remained drained from her expression as she noticed that it was not rising and falling as it should. Her face was peaceful, emitting an almost ethereal pearly glow; she appeared more close to death than to life.

Unable to find a pulse, Mildred began to panic. Tears of confusion and frustration welled in her eyes as she tried frantically to think of what to do.

'M-Miss? Miss H-Hardbroom?' she whispered, her voice cracking with anxiety. Mildred reached out a hand which touched gently against her form mistress' shoulder when she received a shock, like a charge of electricity which caused her to gasp and pull back her hand. Looking in awe at her fingers, she saw a few bright red sparks crackle for a second before fading and Mildred stared at Miss Hardbroom, not sure how to react or what, if anything, it meant.

Mildred didn't know what made her do it. She was scared, more scared than she had ever been before in her life, and she felt as though her body was acting for her as her mind was haze of confusion and emotion. Rising to her feet, still cradling her stinging hand, she backed away and half ran to the other set of stairs wiping at the tears in her eyes.

Xxx

Constance woke for the second time that day with her broken body curled into an unnatural position on the floor. She could barely move, her arms too weak to do more than lift her a few inches from the ground and shaking dangerously as she tried. It couldn't go on. She could feel her magic hissing and crackling within her, firing up as her last resort; she suspected it was the only reason she was conscious.

Her arms gave way and she crashed once more to the ground, pain coursing through her ribs as they made contact with the unyielding stone. Constance shifted her hand and pointed her casting fingers, already feeling the energy preparing to dispel into the air. She watched as a glass appeared, filling with dark red liquid and sighed; she hadn't wanted for it to come to this. With tremendous effort, she reached for the glass and put it to her lips, forcing down every last drop until she felt it begin working.

In moments, she was able to stand and vanished the glass without a thought. She was herself again, at least for now, and she folded her arms to dematerialise into the ether once more.

Xxx

Mildred reached the bottom of the stairs and found her friends, trying once more to catch her breath.

'Millie, are you all right?' asked Maud concernedly, noticing how her friend had gone a shade paler and her eyes were bright with what she could only perceive to be fear.

'Fine,' Mildred lied less than convincingly, 'just took a while that's all. Shall we go?' Had there been more time, Maud would have asked what was truly wrong but as it stood, they were already more than late.

As they ran outside, Mildred could not shake the broken imagine of her form mistress from her mind. She considered going back, or at least telling someone, but she didn't think that she could find the words. Everything was happening so fast that she felt like she was being left behind, the world spinning so quickly beneath her feet that she needed to run to stay on top. Her eyes darted across the courtyard, longing to see Miss Hardbroom watching her with a disapproving stare as she walked in late; but they saw nothing. Her heart sank, knowing that she should have done everything differently.

'Mildred Hubble, are you under the impression that everyone here is obliged to wait for you and your friends to make an appearance?' The tone was cold and sharp as always, ringing through the open air with an unquestionable authority. Mildred's head snapped towards where Miss Hardbroom had just materialised and she was struck speechless. The woman who had seemed dying moments before was standing with her head held high as though nothing had happened; you couldn't have guessed that anything was wrong even if you were looking for there to be.

'M-Miss I...you're...' Miss Hardbroom rolled her eyes.

'Just get ready, Mildred!' She ran off to join her team and tried to think nothing more of what she had seen.

Constance watched Mildred, wondering if she had seen something that she shouldn't have. Her thoughts, however, were interrupted by the headmistress who beckoned her over to the chairs where the staff were to be seated. Without another thought, she walked confidently to the chair beside Miss Cackle and sat down, ignoring a niggling pain in her temple.

'Cutting it a bit fine there Constance,' Amelia remarked. She didn't know why, there was nothing to suggest as such, but something felt out of place; something she could not quite put her finger on.

'I had work to finish,' replied Constance curtly, resenting any suggestion that she had been purposefully late. Amelia thought it best, noticing a distance in her deputy's stare, to back away; aggravating Constance Hardbroom in one of her darker moods was counter-productive, doing more harm than good. Somewhere deep down, Amelia could see a fragile ego which when punctured needed delicate repair; if she was honest, the headmistress considered this to be all that Constance truly had.

Feeling the sense of unease, the tension in the air, Constance shifted uncomfortably. She hated being watched, a sensation she had grown to hate over the past two weeks, especially when it was by those she knew. _Concern for me is futile they should know that by now_, Constance thought with frustration. Normality and routine; such simple things she had treasured throughout her life and wished to know again as her life seemed to be teetering on the brink of catastrophe.

Xxx

The first game began, though the deputy headmistress was taking little notice of what was taking place. She saw blurs of red and purple, heard cheers of delight and groans of misfortune, yet she felt as though she was watching from a great distance. Everything seemed muted, the beating of her own heart louder even than Miss Drill's whistle which sounded through the air like a call to war.

Constance felt disconnected, only fully aware of her own body and a strange and distant presence which she could sense, not too far away from the castle and waiting for something. She had always been able to feel things, disturbances or forces foreign to normality, and whoever or whatever this was it was new and unstable – and angry.

Without warning, the pain which had once been no more than a pin prick in her temple erupted like an uncontrollable force of nature, enveloping her head in a bubble of agony. _This shouldn't be happening_, she thought, _it can't be_. The potion she had taken was powerful, enough to last hours if not days; yet she could feel her body failing once more, her heart racing and no depth of breath enough to satisfy her lungs.

A weight which seemed to be a thousand bricks was pressing against her chest, pain like fire radiating through her body and searing deep into her soul. It took only seconds for the rest of the world to melt away, a distant dream as she descended into darkness. Constance tried to call upon her magic, her only strength, but it was out of reach and a source of power whatever was happening to her prevented her from controlling.

_Please_

She thought in desperation,

_Please, not now, not here where everyone can watch me fall. I cannot die, please don't let me die._

It felt wrong, begging for her life to a force which probably did not exist; but she knew that her life was hanging by the thinnest thread. It was against everything she had ever believed, the ultimate weakness; she had always thought that if death was to greet her then she would accept it nobly and leave with all of the dignity she could manage. But Constance could no longer feel her heart beating, nor her chest rising in breath; all that she could feel was the fire of pain and it felt as though it was going to take her, whether she objected or complied.

She felt a hand touch her arm and her eyes opened.

'Constance, are you all right?'

Blinking slightly in the brilliant light of day, Constance looked around and saw the worry on Miss Cackle's fraught face. The game was still going on, as if nothing had happened, but the headmistress was looking at her as though she knew more than she could possibly know about what had taken place and Miss Bat's eyes darted once too often in her direction.

'Fine, Miss Cackle,' she managed, though her throat was dry.

She couldn't explain it. One minute she had been sure that she was on the brink, begging like a shameful prisoner for her life, and now she was back with nothing but the haunting memories of what she could only call the path to hell.

'You're so pale,' Amelia whispered, her eyes bright with questions and the need to mother and to care. She could see the milky white skin had been drained of life, the scars of pain inflicted by her body just evident on her otherwise perfect face. The headmistress saw in that face where beauty could have presided, in the porcelain skin and enchanting brown eyes; but there were scars far deeper and older than the ones which she could see. There was a twitch in her eye, a hesitancy in her speech which spoke of darker times in her past and emotional wounds which may never truly heal.

'It's...just hot out here,' replied Constance vaguely. In truth, she could feel the heat burning against her skin more than it ever had before. Even the smouldering smoke which rose from a bubbling cauldron felt cool to her, though just sitting there now was almost unbearable. She felt a sudden rush of sadness, an emotion as alien to her as the weakness quickly taking over her body, at how she seemed to be failing. Everything was difficult, every time something passed another problem took its place and it was exceeding frustration to the point of depression. Constance had always been in control, and now that she wasn't, now that something she couldn't understand held her fate in its hands, she had no idea what to do.

Miss Cackle looked almost pitifully at the younger woman, her eyes unable to conceal the lies which betrayed a suffering she could not understand. It was not hot in the outside air; most of the girls were wearing their jumpers and still they shivered from the damp cold air. She knew, without question, that something was extremely wrong, but before she could fuss and be denied the help she would offer with selfless care, she had another question playing on her mind.

'Constance?' Amelia asked tentatively.

'Yes,' replied Constance, her voice tired and lacking in the conviction it had held for so long without question.

'You muttered something before and I...it didn't seem to make any sense.' Constance stiffened, wondering what her dazed mind had betrayed during her incapacitation.

'What was it?' she inquired, trying to remain calm despite her pounding heart.

'I think it was a name,' Miss Cackle began.

'Adelina.'

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><p><strong>More to come soon, hope it wasn't too bad, and hopefully at least half a chapter's respite for poor HB; sorry, I had to inflict disaster! <strong>

***Dares to point out very close and helpful review button...***


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello once again! This is the next chapter, one which reveals rather a lot but also has some hidden secrets in it to be revealed later :) Hope you enjoy.**

**Thank you to all those who have reviewed, and for the wonderful NCD who has been a great friend and without whom I wouldn't even have the confidence to publish.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

Constance did not speak for the remainder of the tournament; she knew without question that her words would betray more than she wished to convey. It was the unbearable feeling of knowing that her colleagues, those who would usually look to her, who relied on her and respected her authority, were now watching her, checking up on her like an incompetent child; it was that which made her feel as though she was dying inside.

She wanted nothing more than to disappear, to shimmer away into the background where she could no longer be harmed by their judgements, but the knowledge of what they would whisper in her wake held her back. She had to stay, she had to pretend that everything was all right and be the figurehead that she had to be; if that wasn't who she was, if people did not believe that to be true, then Constance Hardbroom was only the echo of a person, of someone she had been, and she would not be able to go on.

More than once tears stung her like pin pricks in the corners of her eyes, threatening to reveal the truth that had been hidden for years; that she could feel, she could cry and she could hurt just as much as everyone else. And she did, more than anyone would ever realise and more than anyone could know. Looking down at her body, Constance felt as if it did not belong to her; she had once believed that she had the will power never to fail, though now she was even a failure to herself. She hadn't cried in twenty years and at that moment, all she wanted to do was let her tears fall for everyone to see just to prove that she could.

Xxx

The moment that the final match had ended, Constance rose to her feet with all of the dignity she could salvage and walked with false confidence towards the blissful seclusion of the castle. She didn't look back, knowing exactly what she would see and not sure that she could bear the sympathy which she could feel like a force radiating from the headmistress even now.

In leaving, she knew that they would talk behind her back but she had stayed, she had shown that there was nothing wrong and walked away with her head held high; lies that needed to be told. Yes, they would talk, but speculation was better than fact. They could only whisper suspicions, wonder if there was something wrong, though they would draw no conclusions and with this she was safe.

The wooden door closed behind her and Constance could finally let out the breath she had been holding since she had left the courtyard. The pain which had gripped her body, an unyielding hand crushing ever bone in her body, was ebbing away and now all she felt was an overwhelming numbness, the weight just of standing more tiring than she ever realised it could be. She could feel, with a level of relief in herself which she found sickening, the potion beginning to work within her veins and she prayed that it would last until she could retire to her room. For now, she had a job to do and a point to prove, if anything to herself.

Xxx

Amelia walked up to the staffroom, her mind buzzing like a swarm of blazing fireflies. She was half listening to a story from Miss Bat about the artistry of Mongolian opera, but her thoughts were elsewhere, with Constance, with the truth she was afraid to discover but needed to know. She had seen pain in her deputy's eyes, hiding beneath a smokescreen of feigned normality but bleeding through in her sorrowful gaze. It was not something that she would willingly discuss, but the headmistress felt that she had to try; if she didn't, then she suspected that no-one else would.

'Davina, would you assist Miss Drill with the refreshments for the girls?' she asked. Miss Bat looked for a moment at the headmistress, her face the picture of confusion. It dawned on her, like the rising of a new sun, and her expression softened. She nodded her head with a small smile, her eyes telling her to do what she had to with an understanding which even surprised Miss Cackle.

Davina lived in a world of her own for most of the time, a whimsical spirit who lived like a bird travelling wherever the wind cared to take her; many assumed that she was lost within her mind, a sensitive soul on the brink of madness, but they were wrong. She could see what others saw, sometimes in more detail, and she could understand more about people than they perhaps knew about themselves. They said she was mad, yet she spoke only the truth.

Constance was leaning against the table, taking in deep breaths calm her furious heart, when she heard Miss Cackle enter the room behind her. She straightened at once though her mind seemed no more willing than her body; she once again had to put on her mask, to pretend to be something she wasn't, though she wondered how much longer this facade could last. Every day it grew weaker, cracks splintering what had once been an unbreakable force, and it would not be long before there was nothing left behind which to hide.

'Miss Cackle,' Constance acknowledged, surprised by how little her voice had changed in spite of everything. Amelia offered no reply, but walked slowly closer to her with that air of sympathy and warmth which made Constance's stomach turn. She was tired, though she wouldn't admit it; the last thing that she wanted was the third degree from a woman who could never understand her.

'Was there something you wanted, headmistress?' Constance asked impatiently, turning to face Miss Cackle with an expression which could have silenced thunder.

'You know very well what I want to talk about,' Amelia answered calmly.

'I do not,' Constance hissed, her voice as sharp and as bitter as venom, 'and if you insist on wasting my time with ambiguous statements then I will have to leave.' Amelia looked at Constance, wishing that she could believe such blatant lies. She could see the younger woman's defences locking into place, the inner workings of her mind plain to see as she attempted to defend the fortress which protected her soul; she was vulnerable, on the precipice of a great fall, yet still she tried to guard her honour even when it was clearly putting herself in danger.

Amelia moved a step closer to Constance and saw the flaring discomfort in her deputy's eyes.

'You can deny it until you are blue in the face but I won't believe it,' Miss Cackle assured her gently. 'I watched you at the tournament Constance, I could see that something wasn't right. Even now I can see it in your eyes; you can protest all you like, but your eyes don't lie.' Constance opened her mouth, though all of the lies she could have told seemed to choke her, constricting her throat in defiance. She sighed deeply, rolling her eyes and reaching her hand subconsciously to where pain throbbed at her temple.

'It really is nothing,' Constance insisted as she gave in and sat at the table massaging her aching head, 'I just haven't been sleeping very well.' Amelia shook her head, half amused by how her deputy continued to try to deflect attention away from herself. She could see how it pained her to be scrutinised, her every move watched by those who had always respected her. Somehow, to her, it was a betrayal of loyalty to care. She thought that by being concerned, those around her would lose respect for her; it was a sorrowful thing for Miss Cackle to watch, on top of everything, insecurity ravage a vulnerable woman, to see her try in desperation to hold her crumbling life together.

'How long has it been going on?' Amelia inquired, her voice soft and welcoming of a truth it would never receive.

'A few days,' Constance lied less than convincingly, but she knew that the headmistress would allow her some exaggeration; it was more than enough that she was talking at all. If she wished she could fold her arms and disappear into the ether, a prospect both women knew was a possibility if the situation was not handled with care.

'Even so,' Miss Cackle thought aloud, 'you looked ill, really ill. You could barely keep your eyes open but you seemed...'She trailed off, finding it harder than she had imagined to think of the white porcelain shade of death which had ghosted across her face in the courtyard.

'You seemed as though you were in pain,' she finished finally. Constance heard the catch in her voice and found herself wondering why the headmistress was even concerned. True, she had a degree of responsibility to ensure the wellbeing of her staff; yet it seemed to be deeper than that. It was something Constance couldn't comprehend. She didn't understand how anyone could care for her.

'I took a potion,' Constance stated simply, increasing the pressure on her painful temples. She begged, pleaded with her own body to at least last until the end of the conversation; she didn't think that she would be able to handle such burning embarrassment, such a betrayal of her character.

'What sort of potion would do that?' Amelia asked, almost disbelievingly.

'Indarra,' Constance croaked, before coughing painfully to clear her throat, 'an Indarra potion.'

Amelia stood for a moment, her mind not quite able to process what she had been told. An Indarra potion was the most powerful strength potion it was possible to take, using rare and potent ingredients which were widely accepted as contraband. She could not understand what would motivate Constance to take such a potion, one which was very much a last resort; Amelia could sense that the cause went far deeper than a troubled sleep.

'Why...why would...Constance, that potion-'

'I know what it does,' Constance snapped, resenting that her knowledge as well as her competence was now being called into question. 'Anyway it doesn't matter now; I won't be taking it again.' The headmistress had so many questions, so many worries and fears that her head could barely contain them all. Though she suspected that Constance was indeed relinquishing some truth, she knew that sleep was not the only thing which was playing on her mind. She had seen pain, deep and genuine, set in the younger woman's eyes. The headmistress could have asked so many different things of Constance, but there was only one thing she knew that she could ask even if the answer was not honest.

'Constance,' she finally asked, after a moment of lingering silence had stood in the stagnant air, 'who is she? Who is Adelina?' Constance's hands stopped working her forehead and froze, her entire body stiffening at the mention of that name, the name she had not, until that day, heard in years and the name which she could not bear to hear now. She had hoped that after Amelia had brought it up before that it would fade away again, a ghost dying for a second time and resting peacefully where it belonged: in memory, not in words.

'No-one,' Constance said, her voice monotone with no hint of emotion, 'she's no-one. It's just a ghost of a name, it means nothing anymore.' Constance looked up at Miss Cackle and the headmistress could have sworn that she saw the flash of a tear glimmering in the half light. Her eyes pleaded, such innocence and vulnerability shining in the deep brown pools; she had never looked so human, so shaken and so terribly mortal.

'Leave it,' she whispered, 'please leave it; she isn't worth the trouble.' Folding her arms and still holding Miss Cackle's gaze she disappeared, the echo of her plea ringing long after she had gone.

Materialising in her room Constance stumbled towards her bed and fell hard against the iron bedstead, sliding in pain to the floor as her legs became unwilling to keep her standing. Holding her aching ribs, she felt the memories of Adelina flood her thoughts relentlessly until her face was all that she could see. She saw flashes of a fresh, happy young face laughing, the sound of birds chirruping in the morning light and choirs singing songs of praise, with dark hair cascading down her back and bouncing as she ran through the grass.

'_Come on Connie, catch me! You'll never catch me!'_

It was as though she had no control. The tears came like an army, taking command of her eyes as they ran down her face. She hated them, the mirrors reflecting her weakness which no-one else could ever see, yet she could not stop them from falling; they had taken control and she was powerless to stop them. She cried for herself, for the imperfection she had tried so hard to avoid which now seemed to be becoming part of her, but also for Adelina.

Constance had never allowed herself to cry for her, for the girl she had lost too early on and for whom she should have helped when she had the chance. She couldn't understand why anyone could care for her, could feel anything but hate towards her, because that was what she felt for herself; she hadn't even been able to care for the person she was closest to in the world and it had been her fatal downfall.

Xxx

Constance sat at the long table in complete darkness, staring at nothing in particular as she listened to the beginnings of thunder rumbling in the distance. The clouds were even darker than the night sky, the impenetrable black of ebony or jet, gathering to capture the moon and to silence the stars as they rallied in preparation for the oncoming war. Constance sighed, pushing her long dark hair behind her ears and placing her heavy head into her hands.

The purple silk which had once been soft and smooth against her skin seemed rough and punishing as it moved across her skin, though she barely noticed. Pain had become part of her day, part of her life, but she would not let it become part of who she was. It would not defeat her; she knew that if nothing more, even if it brought about her demise.

Amelia opened the door without allowing the briefest of sounds to permeate the air. She watched Constance, like a mother watching over her child. It was hard to pretend that she did not think of her deputy as something closer than a colleague. She had known Constance for almost fifteen years; Amelia remembered their first meeting well.

She was young, only twenty years old, yet she had the maturity and responsibility of women far older than her limited years. Despite her age, she was bright and she had a way with students that the headmistress had never seen. She commanded their respect without needing to establish a relationship, instilled fear but compliance from her first day where others would simply have succumbed to the daunting pressure of a class of judgemental students.

Constance was a force, of power if not nature, though Amelia had always known that this would come at a price. She never let anybody in, never dropped the barriers which surrounded what the headmistress guessed was a fragile heart. Mistress Broomhead was the only person she had ever seen invoke emotions other than anger or frustration in the deputy headmistress, the fear in her eyes like nothing Amelia had ever witnessed. There were demons in Constance's past that had never been released, which had been hidden to torture a soul masked from the rest of the world by an unyielding expression and commanding tone; Amelia knew that there was more to Constance than the eye could first establish.

Looking out of the window now, the last light of a dying moon shining against her face, Constance appeared more of a ghost than a woman. Her porcelain skin was luminescent in the eerie rays of the night, her eyes glinting with sadness to which no tears could ever do justice and her thin arms looked as though they would snap under the lightest pressure. She was thin, no more than skin and bones beneath the purple material which barely managed to conceal the horrible way her body was wasting away, screaming out for help though her mind would never allow anyone to listen.

Amelia noted how she must use powerful spells to hide how she appeared during the day; even in her fitted velvet dress she had never seemed to lose weight. Now, under the revealing light of the moon, the headmistress could see the true Constance Hardbroom, the one that no-one else was allowed to see. She wanted nothing more than to take her in her arms, to comfort her in a warm embrace and to make everything all right for her; she would have given anything to be able to do such a simple thing to a woman who so clearly needed it. Tears prickled at her eyes as she wondered if her deputy, her friend and the closest she would ever get to a daughter, was walking the slow and painful path which led to death.

'Adelina Hardbroom,' Constance said wistfully. Amelia realised that she had known that she was watching her; of course she had. She had forgotten that, no matter how close Constance was to any sort of weakness, she was still a teacher. She was the woman who the students feared above all others, who they knew that they could never fool, and if she ever stopped being that person then Amelia knew that nothing more could be done to save her.

'She was my sister.'

_Was._ The word rang like a chiming bell in Amelia's head, so many meanings yet she was afraid to ask in fear that she already knew.

'Your sister?' she asked, moving further into the room and locking the door with a swift movement of her hand. Constance nodded dreamily, as if her mind was somewhere else.

'She was only a few years younger than me, but she always looked up to me. When she was younger, she wasn't...wasn't quite right. I had to look after her, to make sure she didn't get into trouble; she listened to me, and only to me. I think she wanted to be like me in a way; but when I told her that I was going off to the Witch Training College...'

She broke off for a moment, the memories of that day on the bridge flooding back and playing over and over in her mind. Her screams still echoed in her ears as she begged her sister not to jump, the cries of frustration as she pulled Adelina away from the edge kicking and screaming and held her close, promising her that she would come back for her, that she was doing this for her. They had stayed for hours, locked in each others' embrace until the sky had turned dark. Constance had whispered hushed words of comfort to her, had stroked her cheek and told her that whatever happened she would always been there. She had saved her, but at that instant she had also condemned her.

'Adelina was unstable. Her moods would change in an instant and I was the only one who could calm her down and when she found out I was going away then she couldn't handle it. But I had to go; I had to go, because otherwise...' The reason was too painful for Constance to admit. She was bearing her darkest truth, but she could not relinquish something which only she and her father knew, which he had taken to his grave; she had vowed to do the same.

'I did it for her, but she couldn't understand.'

Amelia felt hot tears rising and falling down her face. She had never known, never asked, and now she was hearing the truth it was unbearable; how could one woman's life be such a tragedy?

'Three months after I went to Witch Training College, she ran away; my mother went after her, but she couldn't keep up. She went to the bridge and she...and she jumped. I wasn't there to stop her, I could have stopped her, but I was too busy.

'Mother died shortly afterwards and I just blocked it all out, pretended that I never had a family; by then I was under Mistress Broomhead's care and I wasn't allowed to leave. So, now you know the truth about who I really am.' Constance's voice never broke as she told her tragic tale. Amelia looked at her through her watery eyes and she walked over, placing a hand gently on her far too bony shoulder.

'It's not your fault,' she whispered.

'Isn't it?' Constance asked, a question to which she felt there was only one answer. 'I could have saved her.'

'You don't know that,' Miss Cackle assured her.

'I do.' Constance said resignedly. She knew what she knew, she could feel it with every beat of her heart. The locket which she had not had the heart to throw away was still in her room, her sister's locket, bearing the very initials of the young girl she had let down so many years ago. Someone was mocking her, dragging her past from where she had tried with everything she had to bury forever, and it seemed that they would not rest until she was punished.

They didn't know that she punished herself every day, every waking moment, for something which was not even her fault.

The storm clouds rumbled, the growl of lions before they charged into a fearsome battle to the death. Lightning flashed, burning through the sky as it showed off the power it held with every finger with which it touched the Earth. Constance looked out, wishing that she was someone, anyone else and knowing that she would pay for what she did. She would pay for crimes for which there was no justice, would stand on trial for the murder of her own sister. Adelina was gone, and all she craved was that it had been her in her place falling towards the ground with no apparent means of escape.

Justice would be served, vengeance would be taken, though it would not be just. It would not be fair, and an innocent woman would fall at the hands of someone who knew too little and could not understand the sacrifices which had been made for her, the life which had been lost for her and the happiness which had been relinquished just so that she could live a normal life, a life which she had taken for granted.

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><p><strong>Though I would go and give it a bit of an ambiguous confusing end ;) Anyone want to give HB a hug now? XD<strong>

**Hope you enjoyed, please review if you have comments it means loads :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**May need my mountain retreat where I went to after WoD but hello again :) Don't shoot, I have had hell writing this chapter and God knows it wasn't what I thought it was going to turn out to be but here it is nonetheless. I have excuses but there is no point in reading them...just read the chapter!**

**To Princess Sammi, I am so sorry and I will reply...eventually :) This chapter can be a present for my lateness and uselessness... **

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far and I hope that this chapter doesn't disappoint. More to come as I am sure you guessed and I will very soon be updating other things. Happy reading!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

Constance was caught, lost in the place between waking and sleeping where the world seems like a dream but is just vivid enough to be real. She could hear a voice, as soft as the gentle coo of a morning dove, calling to her through the mist that clouded her thoughts and pulling her into reality. Opening her eyes, she saw the outline of a face inches away from hers though it was blurred into a haze of colours, each blending together without the limitations of complete comprehension. She felt the soft pull of someone tugging at her hand, forcing her to wake when all of her senses were trying to allow her to fall back into a serene sleep.

'Constance!' The loud whisper was filled with such excitement, the energy of an innocent child. As she blinked, her bedroom came into focus and she saw her sister's face beaming back at her. Adelina was just seven years old, her eyes sparkling with the happiness of someone without a care in the world and the fascination of discovery. Her shoulder length hair was a deep rich brown, falling across her face as she leant over the bed shaking Constance lightly to try and force her to get up.

'What is it?' asked Constance groggily, brushing long hair as black as a raven's feathers back behind her ears as she sat up in bed.

'It's the sky, the sky is burning! It's so pretty,' Adelina insisted, her words flowing faster than midsummer rain as her excitement overwhelmed her. She took hold of the purple silk of Constance's sleeve and pulled gently.

'Come on Connie, you'll miss it!'

'All right,' Constance said, knowing it would be easier just to adhere to her sister's imagination. Climbing slowly out of bed, she watched Adelina run to the window and gaze out with a look of awe, as though there was something impossible happening beyond the thin glass.

The room was of no great size though had space enough for the two single beds, a modest dresser and a small desk and chair in the very corner tucked against the wall. One side of the room was so meticulously clean and tidy, without a single personal item surrounding it, that you would not have guessed that a child had ever lived there. The other half of the room was bright and colourful, the wall covered in half finished drawings which also littered the floor; stuffed animals had been scattered across the bed and floor where some lay, dishevelled and forgotten or even missing an arm. The bedroom spoke so much about two sisters; one, the eldest, had only dark dresses folded neatly in a drawer and a stack of books around a writing desk, whereas the other had everything she had ever asked for strewn across the floor. It was not difficult to see that neither girl was happy.

Constance walked over to the window and stood behind Adelina, looking out to see what her sister could; even at just 10 years old, she was far taller than her younger sibling. The sun was just beginning to peek above the horizon, the first dawn's light cascading across the faultless countryside. She could see what Adelina had meant; the sky was red, as though alight with the power of the rising sun and the leaves were glinting, trees of gold relishing the light. It was beautiful, the way the horizon stretched without interruption as far as the eye could see and as another morning began there could be a moment of pure serenity and grace with the colours bright enough to startle the stars into fading.

'What is it Connie?' Adelina questioned struck with such a simple sight, though one she had never before appreciated.

'It's the sun coming up,' explained Constance, 'it happens every morning before we wake.'

'It's so beautiful,' the younger girl whispered softly. Constance nodded.

'That it is.'

They watched the sun rise up high into the sky together, Adelina staring almost without blinking as if she was watching a once in a life time opportunity. In time, the sun's light was defeated by a mist of white cloud and the brightly coloured sky faded to the pale blue of every day. Constance watched Adelina's face fall.

'Where did it go?' she asked, still staring as if in the hope that the beauty she had witnessed would come back.

'Just behind a cloud,' Constance told her, 'don't worry.'

'But...but,' stuttered Adelina, turning to Constance with her eyes swimming with tears, 'it's not pretty any more. The colours – where did the colours go?

'They are only there for a short time, but they'll be back tomorrow morning and every morning after that. We can watch it again,' Constance assured her reaching her hand out to take Adelina's, though she pulled away as though in dismay.

'No,' she insisted loudly, 'no I want to see them now. Bring them back!'

'Calm down Adelina,' Constance tried, her voice as soft and gentle as she could manage, 'I can't bring them back. It happens every day, you can see them tomorrow!' She took hold of her sister's arm lightly, though Constance knew as she looked into her eyes what was going to happen.

'NO!' Adelina screamed, tearing herself from Constance's grip and running to her bed, 'NO, IT ISN'T FAIR, NO!' She took the covers from her bed and threw them to the floor, tearing her pictures from the wall with vigour as she became lost in her own anger. Constance ran to her, placing her arms around Adelina's waist and picking her up, shouting and kicking, as tears stung her eyes.

'Stop it Adelina, you're going to hurt yourself,' Constance warned her, before setting her down on the ground.

The young girl turned to her older sister, her once sparkling eyes aflame with violent anger and she took a moment to think, breathing deeply. It was as if another person was controlling her, someone using her as a puppet and taking command of her body. Adelina took her fist and hit Constance hard around the face, startling her so that she dropped to her knees on the floor. In a fit of rage, she began thrashing around, trying to hit her sister again and again though Constance caught hold of her fists and pulled her into an embrace.

It took time but she quietened, sobbing feebly into Constance's shoulder. Picking Adelina up, Constance walked over to the window and raised her right hand. Adhering to her command, the sun reappeared from behind the cloud and retreated to the point below the horizon where the sky was ablaze once more and the bright morning retired back into the first light of dawn. Catching her reflection, she could see her bruised face pale but with blood dripping from a cut to her forehead; she looked away, refusing to accept it.

'See,' Constance whispered as she went and sat on Adelina's baron bed, 'they came back, just for you.' Reappearing from where she had been buried, her hair plastered across her face, Adelina looked around at the window. She smiled, the calm breaking what had been one of many great storms and she turned around to watch the sun rise once more.

Constance sat for hours with Adelina resting her head in her lap as she watched the sun rise again and again, stroking her hair gently as tears rolled silently down her face. Each time it disappeared behind the clouds, she would feel her sister's muscles become tense and Constance would raise her hand once more to instruct the sun to rise again. It was a long time before she felt Adelina's breathing become slow and she could know that she was finally asleep; only then could she allow the sun to rise high into the sky for the final time that morning.

It was only when time was once again in order that Constance's mother poked her head around the door. Her hair was as dark as Constance's, though it was marred with flecks of grey and her eyes were soft with feigned understanding; she would never know the extent of the truths she forced herself to deny.

'Are you all right?' she asked in a hushed tone, 'I heard shouting.'

'It's fine...she's fine now,' Constance assured her mother, without turning her head to reveal that shouting had been the least of her worries. There was so much more to be said, so many things which both of them knew but could not dare to admit; things left unspoken in the household were buried in the sand, the truth that no-one cared to admit. Adelina wasn't well, and only one young girl was left with the responsibility.

'Anyway,' Constance's mother said, eventually breaking the awkward silence, 'I have to get to work. Will you be okay?' Constance nodded, a lie which needed no words to accompany it. Her mother was halfway out of the door when she doubled back, her head once more appearing around the bedroom door.

'Sorry darling, almost forgot...Happy birthday!'

With that she left, a parting gesture as fake and hollow as the smile she wore and Constance was left with Adelina in her lap; 10 years old and she was left to pick up the pieces. She lifted her sister gently and placed her in the middle of the bed, pulling the dishevelled covers over her sleeping body. Kissing her lightly on the head, Constance wished her sweet dreams and went back to her own bed where she sat, knees tucked to her chest, and cried until her eyes could cry no more.

Her cheek burned and her bruised arms ached, the tear which fell from her eyes marrying with the blood which had dried from what she feared to be a broken nose; she had not been able to find the concentration to fix it with magic, simply letting the ruby diamonds fall across her porcelain skin. Each silent tear was a moment of her life that she had missed because of a thousand things, and no matter how many times Constance told herself that she loved Adelina and would do anything for her, there was still part of her which had to ask the question:

_Why does it have to be me?_

Xxx

Constance appeared in her room, stumbling feebly like a baby deer first trying to stand and falling hard against the cold stone. She managed, with great difficulty, to hold onto the wall and moved over to the window, gripping the windowsill with a desperation which disgusted her. She had bid Amelia a hurried goodnight, having given away more than she had ever thought it her right to give and resenting the whispered comforts which would have surely followed had she stayed.

Adelina had always been her secret, something only she knew about and someone who, she thought, no-one would ever discover. It was not altogether that she was ashamed of her sister, as despite everything that had happened in her childhood she had always loved Adelina; no, it was the painful memories which rose even at the mention of her name. To Constance, Adelina was her gravest error of judgement and she felt truly that had she done things differently she would still be alive.

She remembered countless nights when she had put her sister to bed and sat by candlelight in the corner reading books and studying for a future she dared to hope for. Constance had always seen her place as by Adelina's side, caring for her when nobody else could find the strength or patience; reading and practising the magic which already came naturally was just a simple escape when night finally fell and all was quiet.

It was not until she was thirteen, on a day when her mother had taken Adelina to the park on one of her quieter days that she had even thought of a different vision for her future. Constance sat in the garden which overlooked unspoiled countryside, her hair being gently tugged by the wind on a calm spring day. The trees rustled in the breeze by a lake of deep murky blue with rings tainting its surface with unquiet; nature was moving as the Earth hurtled through space, ever changing life which moved on even as others' lives fell apart.

Constance's father, Edward Hardbroom, stood leaning against the open doorway watching his daughter with a warm smile across his face. He was kind and loving, the picture of a perfect father; unfortunately life is never rewarding to the best of men. Edward's daughters meant the world to him. They were the reason he lived and breathed, his excuse for waking on a morning, yet he barely ever got to see them.

Illness is something which nobody deserves, yet always seems to ravish what could have been the most fulfilled of lives. Edward had dreamt his entire life of having a family, and when his two beautiful daughters had been born his heart felt full to the point of bursting with joy so powerful he felt that he could have flown like a bird through the sky. For a while his family had been perfect, idyllic even; and then it had gone so terribly wrong.

At once, he had known that Constance was gifted. From birth she was quiet but clever, showing her first signs of magical ability mere moments after the nurse placed her in his arms. She needed no encouragement, not books nor someone to show her how to harness her power; by the age of two she could already levitate objects at will without the need for words and transform small objects into butterflies.

Adelina was different from her elder sister, a miracle born at the stroke of midnight. As he had watched his wife struggle, in pain as their daughter became trapped in the tangled umbilical cord, he had been sure that they would lose her. Constance, who had been waiting outside, walked in slowly and silently to see her mother screaming in pain; she had not even flinched. Edward had watched in muted awe as the three year old walked over to her mother and took her hand, muttering a few well chosen words beneath her breath; two minutes later, Adelina was born. From then on, Constance had formed a protective bond with her sister which, despite everything, had stayed strong.

But Adelina was not a normal child. Her brain had been starved of oxygen when she became tangled in the cord, unable to breathe for a fraction too long; a baby that never should have lived. Most of the time she was the perfect daughter, happy and cheerful without a care in the world, but there were times when she became a different girl, times of violence and fear. She was not the brightest of children, kept out of school for her tendency to become frustrated when she could not grasp even the simplest of concepts; so Constance looked after her, caring for her from a very young age yet still keeping up with work sent to her by the Witch's Guild on special recommendation.

Edward hated to see his daughter, from the age of four, having to become a mother to her younger sister. The truth was that illness, one which would take away his perfect family life, had hit him when his second daughter was only five months old. As a wizard he worked in the Department for Experimental Magic, testing the effects of absorbing magic to enhance ability. It was safe, or supposed to be, though years after his work had finished he was suffering for it.

His body had reacted badly to the extra magic, attempting to attack what it saw as a foreign and invading force. As a result, his immune system had become too weak to fight off the simplest of diseases and for the past eight years he had spent most of his time behind closed doors to spare his children the pain of watching their father suffer. It was a great burden on his wife, who had found it difficult to deal with Adelina since she was born though had taken a high ranking job at the Guild to support the family; to her it was as much an escape as a need. Edward tried to be part of his daughters' lives but by the time Constance was six and Adelina three, he was forced onto the sidelines to watch as a mere spectator as his children grew. Constance handled it with ease, learning quickly how to calm Adelina and how best to teach her what she needed to know; but Edward's guilt was always there as he watched the strain he was putting on a child who had so much potential.

Watching her now, he knew that he was dying. It could take days, weeks or even years but in the end he knew how it was going to be and he did not know what time he had left. Edward looked on as Constance raised her hands to the sky, preparing to cast her great magic. At her command the wind stopped and the trees fell silent, the lake becoming as still as a sheet of glass. The clouds in the sky faded to nothing, allowing the sun to shine through unhindered and the deep water to sparkle a bright sapphire blue in the light. She moved her fingers and a flock of birds which had been nesting flew from the tree, dancing in the air for a moment before soaring into the sky.

Though simple, Edward knew this level of magic to be unprecedented for a child so young. Commanding nature was one of the most difficult and dangerous of magical practices, with so many risks and imbalances to take into consideration; Constance looked as though she had been doing it for a lifetime.

'Hey Con,' Edward said, finally announcing his presence. Constance turned sharply, to see who was invading her private practice; seeing her father, her harsh expression softened. She suppressed the urge to run and embrace him with every fibre of her being, confessing how much she loved him just to make sure that he knew; it wasn't who she was anymore.

Constance had changed, her emotions now under her control after years of seeing such heartbreak unfold before her eyes; she did not need her father to tell her that he was ill, even dying, as she had worked that out many years ago. She could see it, the secret embedded in his eyes like a curse; the girl she had been when she was younger would have cried, begged him not to go, but Constance knew that it would achieve nothing. She had seen too much of real life to wish that what would surely happen could be altered.

Edward came and sat beside his daughter, admiring her handiwork whilst relishing the feeling of fresh air and the simple smell of grass and life he had so missed locked away in his room.

'You have such talent,' he complimented her truthfully, 'you could do great things.'

'I don't think so,' answered Constance, humbly yet with the conviction of someone who never thought of themselves as anything other than average. Her father looked at her smiling.

'Your mother was always the same,' he told her, 'she could never see how amazing she was either.'

'I still don't know what you mean,' Constance insisted.

'Well let me put it this way: I couldn't do what you are doing now, I never could, and many other fully grown witches and wizards would struggle. Your skill and power already exceeds that of most witches, let alone others your age; with the right training, you could do anything that you wanted to,' he explained.

Constance took a moment to contemplate what she was being told.

'The right training?'

'Yes,' Edward said, 'there are tutors out there who could teach you the things you can't read in books. Are you still doing the work from the Guild?' Constance nodded and looked out over the landscape, leaning back so that her hair fell behind her shoulders. The sun shone on her pale face, revealing a long thin white scar which traced down the side of her cheek to her jaw-line where it would have otherwise been hidden by her hair.

Staring at it for a moment, Edward reached his warm hand and lightly touched the pearly white skin, a shade lighter than the rest of Constance's face. At once, her expression fell to one of seclusion and she pulled away.

'It's nothing,' she muttered quickly and Edward saw her retreat into herself.

'I'm sorry,' Edward confessed, 'you shouldn't have to go through that; I shouldn't put you through that.'

'It is fine. She doesn't mean it, it isn't her fault; sometimes she just...doesn't understand what she's doing,' Constance defended.

'I am the only one she listens to, the only one who can really get through to her. I can't leave her to study witchcraft; that would just be selfish. Mother can't take care of her and she won't like me leaving. It's not really a choice, but I don't mind...really,' Constance lied, almost convincingly.

Edward put an arm around his daughter and pulled her gently into a reluctant hug, though one he could sense that she needed badly, more than she would ever say. He kissed the top of her head and held her close for a moment.

'It isn't wrong to think of yourself once in a while, you can't live your life for other people. Just...think about it.'

The person she had to be wanted nothing more than to tear away from her father and harshly dismiss what he was saying, but she could not bring herself to do so. She cursed her basic instincts, those which kept her close and dared to want something more than the responsibility she was trusted with; she hated that part of her liked the idea too much.

She thought about little else for many weeks, the thoughts she had banished of a future outside of the four walls she had barely left for thirteen years forcing themselves to the forefront of her mind. Constance had never seen herself as gifted or brilliant, not even smarter than average. Adelina too had magical ability, though it mostly pronounced itself in bursts during her aggressive tirades. From time to time she was able to conjure a flower or move objects, though her magic was restricted to what Constance had been able to teach her.

Constance rarely interacted with other children. She never felt the need for companionship, enjoying being alone partly through the routine of spending nights awake and working by herself and partly because it was an escape from the maternal role she took with her sister. She had always assumed that her abilities were no greater than those of others her age, even thinking she was at a disadvantage due to the limited time she had to spend on honing her magical force.

After the conversation with her father Constance started to see herself as a grown witch, working for the Witch's Guild or teaching magic to young students. She had always been fascinated by the skill of potion making, something she had never been able to practice beyond reading, learning the methods and studying the properties of ingredients. Constance knew everything there was to know about magic, though sitting in the corner and casting spells did not feel to her like truly embracing such an art. She had never really realised it but now knowing what she could be, she realised that she was trapped, isolated through the duty she was bound to.

She couldn't blame her father; in truth, these thoughts had always been there, though lying dormant and unspoken. It had only been a matter of time. Constance had never told anyone, but she blamed herself for the way Adelina was. She blamed herself for the restricted life her sister was forced to lead, trying to compensate with some form of justice and closure by caring for her; it would never be enough. It was her moral obligation, to balance the scales for her mistakes and she felt as though she was tied down with this right for her sins. It was impossible for her to have anything more, yet she could not shake the thought; was it so impossible?

Constance had known as soon as she left for the Witch Training College that it wasn't the right decision. It had been her own selfish pursuit for knowledge which had led to the dilemma Mistress Broomhead had given her father, the choice that had to be made and she had known that the consequences would be great. She received the letter which had been sat in her room, a room no larger than a storage cupboard with barely the space to breathe, brewing a draught to tend to her broken ribs.

It was short, a handwritten letter from her mother no more than three lines and the words had blurred as the ink mixed with salty tears. Her father had passed not long after Constance had been accepted into the WTC, and for that at least she was glad; he didn't have to see his family fracture and fall apart within the space of a year. She hadn't cried a single tear, but the punishing guilt had become almost too much to bear. However many times Constance told herself that she had never had a choice, that either way she could not have prevented Adelina's death, she would never believe it. Every time she went to see Mistress Broomhead, late at night for her private tutorials, she almost relished the justice it brought to her; she believed that she deserved it.

Seven years later she graduated from the Witch Training College, far younger than the others who had taken similar courses and with more qualifications than most achieved in a lifetime. Constance took a position teaching potions and lived out what had been the dream of her childhood, but was now her guilty nightmare. Despite the love she had of teaching, of imparting her great knowledge onto others, she could never forgive herself and began to loathe who she was simply because she was still alive. It was her passion, her dream, but she never rose to the heights that she knew she could. Constance knew that she was a powerful witch, possibly one of the most powerful in the country, though she never utilised it; she couldn't bear to.

Xxx

Constance could no longer bear to look out of the window at the sight her sister had longed to see. Another morning was beginning, another day where she had to pretend whilst inside she was screaming at her own existence. She tried walking to her bed, though cursed as she stumbled and had to grab the bedpost to prevent her from falling.

Her mind was a fog, a haze of pain and she felt light headed and as though at any moment she could fall to the ground. She was so tired, so unbearably tired after weeks without a moment to rest her eyes and it was taking its toll without a hint of mercy. Constance knew that she still had to be Miss Hardbroom, the respected deputy headmistress that the girls despised but depended on, and there was only one way to do it.

Nothing had worked so far, no potions or enchantments had aided her suffering or the pain which had become an unrelenting force. She had to resort to the final measure, the only thing which would allow her to carry on. Constance raised her weak arms and began to cast a spell, one which would truly disguise her plight from the rest of the world. It was a veil, like a smokescreen which set her apart from reality by half a step.

She would walk with conviction, speak with confidence and authority as though nothing was wrong; her magic was controlling her, like a puppet on his master's strings, so that to everyone else she would be fine though behind that screen she would be biting down to prevent herself from screaming; even if she did no-one would hear her. It was truly the only way.

The deep red light enveloped her, manipulating her body into a false impression of the woman she was and she had to let an anguished cry escape her lips. It was burning agony, the worst she had felt since those dark days behind the closed doors of the WTC, but it had to be done. With all of the memories of Adelina recurring, it almost felt like punishment and Constance knew beyond any shadow of doubt that she deserved it. As she screamed in the light's first dawn, tears stung her eyes and she realised:

She didn't even have a picture of her.

Xxx

The morning brought dark clouds, the threatening silver colour of a dagger's blade which roared throatily as the wind howled in protest; the oncoming war where nature would surely triumph. Rain began to fall, a gentle wave at first though by the time the castle had woken it became a force of its own pelting cruelly against the ground. The trees of the forest surrounding the castle lost their leaves and branches to the ferocious tempest, but their plight was lost in the mist which hid their suffering from view; hidden in plain sight.

Darkness came despite the sun which was concealed behind the looming clouds, a voice lost to the eclipse of gloom which was gripping the castle and its surroundings. The rain showered the slate roof tiles on the roof with what sounded like bullets, falling so fast that it seemed as if nothing could stop them. The old stone walls seemed to shiver, the cold which had been a stranger since winter permeating the walls and spreading like a parasite through the castle. It was a new type of storm, one which seemed to have purpose and malice intended, and Miss Hardbroom could sense that it was not purely an act of nature.

She was trying hard not to become lost in the furore which had broken out in the castle, with teachers running around to try and seal the doors in fear of flooding and girls running up from the dungeons which was already taking on water. Amelia dipped in and out of the crowd, trying to organise the students whilst managing the staff. She caught Constance's eye with a heaving sigh of relief, knowing that as she was present chaos could never truly take hold; she had to ignore the niggling doubt that all was not as it seemed to be.

'Constance,' she breathed, battling her way to the bewildered deputy's side, 'is there anything that you can do?'

'About the weather? I think not. At the best of times it is a temperamental force but as it is now, with the addition of the Foster's Effect-'

'Yes, yes all right,' Miss Cackle said, cutting her short. 'But what else can we do? Miss Drill is trying to lock away the gym equipment and seal the doors, but nothing seems to be working. The dungeons have already started to flood and the broom shed...' Constance silenced her with a stare. For a second she thought she heard a distant banging on the door, though she presumed it was the wind rattling the wood.

'Let me take care of the technicalities, you and Miss Bat concentrate on sorting the girls out. Get them to use spells to seal their shutters, and keep their belongings away from the windows. Then, ask them to all congregate in the main hall which is least at risk from water damage. There really is no need to panic,' she explained, half rolling her eyes at the anarchy caused by a bout of bad weather. Amelia nodded and, though she paused for a second, as though something was on the tip of her tongue, she left to instruct the girls.

Constance folded her arms and disappeared, materialising in the dungeons where Frank Blossom was trying to find the source of the water which was now up to his thighs. Having pre-empted this, Constance was floating an inch above the water's surface and announced her presence by clearing her throat. Frank turned to her and for a moment his eyes widened in shock.

'Oh it's just you,' he sighed, sounding very relieved.

'Mr Blossom, I believe that your duties may be needed by Miss Drill to spare the all important gym equipment,' Constance informed him with a note of sarcasm hinted in her tone. 'I can sort things out here.'

Frank considered arguing, but he had known Miss Hardbroom too long to want the hassle of an argument he knew that he did not want to have. With a quick nod, he waded to the stairs and made his way out of the dungeons, out of sight. Constance raised her casting fingers and with barely a flick of her wrist the water disappeared, leaving the source of the leak to reveal itself. She barely even had to wiggle her fingers for her magic to seal the leak and everything was quiet once more.

Behind the veil that everyone saw, the true Constance Hardbroom was feeling the weight of her actions. Being forced even to walk was a task in itself; with the responsibility of protecting and securing the school her energy was quickly draining and her aching limbs protested with each step. Each time she cast her magic, it burned her chest with the force of a roaring fire and even returning to the ground brought little relief. She wondered how long she could carry on pretending before she had to give in.

Xxx

Amelia walked quickly down the stairs for what she suspected to be the one thousandth time and was pleasantly surprised to see that most of the girls were either in the hall or walking swiftly but orderly through the corridors. She noted that the sound of the rain seemed more distant, and wondered if Constance had placed a bubble spell to keep the castle from the worst of the damage.

Although she did and would continue to worry about her deputy, she could not deny that she had handled what could have been a crisis with ease. A storm with such a force, the power of a hurricane it seemed, had never before challenged the old building and without her Miss Cackle was sure that they would have been paying for the damage.

Whilst Amelia was leaning against the wall for a moment to catch her breath, Miss Drill appeared from the staffroom with a towel around her neck.

'Looks like we're through the worst of it,' she stated positively. Miss Cackle smiled.

'I should hope so, I'm too old to be doing this on a regular basis!' Imogen returned her smile half heartedly, though her expression turned almost suddenly serious.

'The woman from the Witch's Guild is here, the one delivering some form of documents,' she explained.

'Ah yes, has she dropped them off?' Amelia inquired.

'Not quite,' Imogen started, 'I...she...I think that you should hear for yourself.'

Xxx

When she was sure that the castle would be safe from any form of onslaught that nature could bring, Constance stole a moment to retreat back to the dungeons. On many occasions this had been her hiding place, or at least somewhere she knew that she could go where she would not be disturbed. It would take at least half an hour to organise the students and make sure that nothing had been damaged, and she figured that she had done enough to earn five minutes of solitude.

Sitting at one of the wooden benches, Constance's head fell almost instinctively into her hands; it carried such a weight, a tired throbbing ache which only added to the general pain of living and breathing. She had known what she was doing to her body when she cast the spell over herself earlier that morning, though now she knew what a state her crippled form must be in for it to be this hard.

If this did not work, if she could no longer handle the pain it brought, then the end result did not bear thinking about. She could picture the scene, someone finding her fallen body on the floor whilst she could do nothing but sleep the bittersweet slumber of unconsciousness. Doctors would be called, the whole school whispering her name behind closed doors; they wouldn't find anything wrong.

She had looked, searched her mind and vast knowledge in addition to the books she had on healing and found nothing. It was beyond explanation, beyond comprehension, and it was happening to her without reason. She wanted to believe that some higher power was finally serving her justice for what she did to Adelina, but she did not believe that life was that simple. No, whatever was happening it had purpose hidden behind secrets yet untold and revelations still moving with the shadows. Constance could feel them drawing from her strength, taking her life force with every breath just to spite her; she hadn't the energy to protest anymore, she just wanted to know why.

Hearing another's footsteps on the stairs, Constance lifted her head sharply and adjusted her position to the uncompromising posture others had come to know her for. She was surprised to see Miss Cackle, her face as white as a turtle dove, standing at the foot of the stairs with an almost fearful expression.

'What is it, headmistress?' Constance asked, slightly tentatively. Amelia swallowed and began to explain.

'There is a woman here, someone sent to deliver documents from the Guild.'

'Yes,' urged Constance, frustrated by how the headmistress seemed to insist on dancing around the point she so obviously needed to convey.

'She wants to see you, Constance.'

'Why would she want to talk to me?' Amelia's eyes were bright with surprise and anxiety, something new that Constance had never seen before.

'I can't explain,' she said finally, 'it's better that you see.' Not wanting to waste more time Constance stood up and folded her arms, transporting them both to the corridor outside the staffroom.

'Is she in here?' Constance asked. Amelia nodded. She wondered how Constance would react, preparing for fireworks the likes of which she would most likely never see again.

Constance walked through the door to see the other teachers congregated with a woman standing in a black coat, facing away from her with the hood covering her face from where she was stood. Clearing her throat, Constance declared her presence and the room fell silent, the uncomfortable silence of a funeral's wake.

'I am Constance Hardbroom, deputy headmistress,' she announced with the conviction which was as much of a lie as her feigned interest as to who this woman was.

The hooded woman turned on her heel and lifted her hood, shaking her rich brown hair from her face. She beamed at Constance, a smile the deputy headmistress had seen before. Constance felt ice run through her veins and the rest of the world become void; there were only the two of them left on the planet. Her heart simply stopped, refusing to beat as her mind refused to comprehend what she was seeing. It was impossible, beyond comprehension yet it couldn't have been anyone else. There was no mistaking it, yet images from that day on the bridge called back to her and tried to convince her others.

No...it was her, it had to be though it couldn't...could it?

'Adelina,' the woman said brightly, beaming at Constance, 'Adelina Hardbroom.'

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><p><strong>Oooh what a cliffhanger, another one I am afraid :) Will update soon, please let me know what you thought and I hope you enjoyed it!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**OK, now I am fully aware of the more than 2 month delay hanging over this story and for that I apologise greatly, in every way and with edible treats! After the summer ended, work started and my other fic screamed for my attention this story did get a little lost in the mix but I would never ever abandon something halfway through so fear not! It may be years in the making but this story will achieve another chapter! And then another etc. until there is some sort of ending :)**

**Thanks to everyone who reads, and if you get a bit lost then I advise reading the last few chapters if you have time as I had to! If you will all bear with me, this fic does have further to go and I will get there (promise :) ) even if it takes a while. Not sure when the next chapter will be up, as this one took a while to ponder though only 2 days to write, but it will be up at some point.**

**Thank you for bearing with me and I hope you enjoy this chapter! The body of it is exactly 8000 words which is today's triumph :) Big thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far and I would really love to know what you think as this chapter has been a refreshing pleasure to write but I am not sure how it turned out. **

**Enjoy and happy reading!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

_'Adelina,' the woman said brightly, beaming at Constance, 'Adelina Hardbroom.'_

The world, to Constance, had always seemed unjust. It was not just the selfish desires of a woman whose life had suffered much misery, but the wise observation of someone who could see the world for what it really was. More often than not, good people who had given nothing but kindness and love in their lives were cursed with death, illness or bereavement whilst the soulless shadows of what humans are truly capable of lived without a care in the world.

No-one knew everything. There wasn't a person on the planet who could answer every question, who could solve every problem and put the minds of those scared of what they didn't know at ease. Some things were not meant to be known. They were secrets better left unsaid, for the damage and heartbreak they would induce would cause nothing short of a catastrophe. To open Pandora's Box was to unleash a world of evils with only the hope of gaining something better; a gamble most thought was not worth the risk.

The secrets that Constance had buried in her distant past had haunted her every day for more than twenty years. The guilt that she had harboured since she was 15, perhaps even before then, had lived with her and been a part of her life; with every beat of her heart, with every breath she took, she was reminded of why she was still living when her sister could not. There had been days when the slightest thing had reminded her of what she had lost, days when she had found it nearly impossible to control a grief which had never found closure. Those were the times when Constance had wished, almost begged, that it had been her life taken instead of Adelina's but to no avail.

Yet somehow, she was there. She was there beyond a shadow of a doubt, living and breathing and smiling such an impossible smile. Adelina was quite tall though still fell short of Constance by a few inches, her frame slender with a dark coat not quite covering a white blouse and striking electric blue skirt. Her eyes were the same deep brown as hers, the sparkle the same as Constance could remember from what was now a lifetime ago, and her rich brown hair sat in playfully tangled curls bobbing up and down on her shoulders. Her face, with the perfect complexion and high cheek bones, shone in the light of the candles illuminating the room; for a dead woman, she seemed extremely well.

As much as her eyes told her that it was really Adelina, with the same eyes and same hair of the face which had rested in her lap as the sun rose a hundred times, her mind couldn't believe it. For twenty years, Constance had accepted that her younger sister had died, that she had taken her own life on a whimsical impulse originating in desperation and anger she couldn't control. Even if she had never quite managed to come to terms with Adelina's death, the part that she played and the reasons for it, what had allowed her to get through every waking hour was the belief that there was nothing more to be done. She was gone, and there had been nothing she could do about it.

Now everything had changed.

Xxx

Her foggy mind was cast back into a memory she had dreamt about a hundred times. It was a cold winter's morning, the first flakes of December snow beginning to fall from a sky of the purest white to grace the land with its frosted touch. Constance had dressed in one of her typical black dresses, a gown of silk which flowed like water across her thin and fragile frame.

She had never been of a particularly curvy stature, but after four months at Witch Training College she couldn't deny that it had taken its toll on her physique. Looking at herself in the mirror, her hair loose across her shoulders as was the custom for a witch's funeral and her posture as straight-laced as it was possible to be, Constance couldn't help but despise what she saw.

Not more than 8 months ago, she had been sat on the low branch of a vast oak tree with a book in her lap and her hair free to be tangled in the wind. She had watched Adelina running through the cornfields, chasing happily after a butterfly which seemed to be humouring her by dancing just an inch from her reach. Her laughter had been so powerful, so bright and full of energy that it could have lit a darkened sky.

They had seemed like the only two people in the world. The vast surrounding countryside was enough to separate them from everyone else, from the problems that the rest of the world was troubled with, so that it was just them in their little bubble of seclusion. They didn't need anyone else but each other, though little had they known that everything would soon change.

It had been that very afternoon, with the sun beating down on the golden corn as her little sister had played, blissfully ignorant to what was going on around her, when Constance had received the news that would change her life. A letter appeared from nowhere, hovering just beside her head until she plucked it from the air and read it. The letters, written in perfect calligraphy, seemed to be no more than a blur on the page. Constance knew what they meant. She had been accepted into the Witch Training College to be tutored under Hecketty Broomhead, an honour many would have jumped at the chance to receive; but she knew too much to know that this was anything but a curse.

Folding the letter away, she watched Adelina for a few more minutes. Constance had made her choice. It had been the only choice she could make, something her father had begged her to reconsider though his efforts were in vain. She wished at that moment more than anything that she could feel his gentle touch once more, a reassuring hand on her shoulder that she needed now more than ever; it was a comfort she would never know again.

Now she had to tell her sister, someone who depended on her for almost everything, that she would have to leave. It was the hardest thing she ever had to do.

Biting back tears, Constance brushed the memory from her mind and forced herself to look into the mirror once more. She was surprised at how much she loathed her own image, despising the person that she had become since she had left her sister four months previously. Constance had always been a reserved and stoic person, yet something about Adelina had brought out part of her that would otherwise have stayed dormant. Yes, she had to be like a mother figure towards her younger sibling, but she had also allowed herself, every once in a while, to be engulfed by the wonderous creativity of childhood. That part of her had died with Adelina, and now she dreaded to think what she would become.

Walking across the still graveyard, the only sound was the unrelenting crunch of thickening snow beneath her boots. Constance could see her mother leaning on a friend with a handkerchief covering her face; she barely even acknowledged the arrival of her other daughter. The gathering was few, but the degree of sadness which emanated from every person stood in the cold that day was overwhelming. Constance didn't cry. She couldn't. It was too heartbreaking to believe, her mind unable even now to register the fact that she had become an only child. She had lost her father, the one person who had bothered to understand her, and now the sister with whom she had always shared such a tight bond. It was like losing part of herself.

As the snow continued to fall across the dull grey headstone, the crowd began to disperse until only Constance was left. The silence was golden, a perfect chance to reflect on what the future would hold. The grave was empty as no body had ever been recovered, but the headstone would always stand in her memory in a spot on the gentle hill overlooking the wildflowers which were now dusted with white powder. Before she left, leaving that part of her life behind forever though never ever forgetting it, Constance waved her right hand in the air to conjure a single perfect rose. This rose stood out blood red against the virgin white of the snow and rested against the stone, its perfect petals wavering slightly in the gentle breeze. It was a rose of everlasting life, one which would never wither or die; a final goodbye.

Xxx

In what couldn't have been more than a second, Constance felt these memories rushing back to her and flooding her already saturated mind with images of an unforgettable past. Staring at Adelina, her mouth slightly open in shock, words failed her.

'Not really much of a welcome I have to say,' Adelina jested cheerfully, 'but I can imagine that my presence may come as...somewhat of a surprise.' She reached across the table to her small black satchel and pulled out two thin brown files which she held in her arms.

'I got a job quite a while ago at the Guild, and when they mentioned sending someone here...well I couldn't resist. I had to see you again Connie.'

'Don't,' Constance croaked, 'don't call me that.'

'Why not? You never minded when you were younger,' laughed Adelina.

'That was then,' Constance said simply. It wasn't just that it was a nickname from her youth, not even that it was an embarrassment before her colleagues. No, it was more the fact that the girl that had called her Connie before she had known and trusted with her life. Truth be told, she didn't know a thing about the woman standing before her.

'Anyway Miss Cackle,' Adelina addressed the headmistress with a quick and flashing smile, 'these files will need to be filled out and signed in as soon as possible. The Guild is re-evaluating the schools GAS, or Guild Approved Status, due to the fact that an excess of unusual magical energy has been detected in the castle. An evaluation will be needed to ascertain the safety of the school as well as the usual standard of teaching and progress.'

'Magical energy?' Miss Cackle inquired, looking puzzled. 'Could that be anything to do with this unusual weather? It is rather uncustomary for this time of year and has been rather unpredictable to say the least.'

'Anything is possible,' explained Adelina, 'but I'm just here as the messenger.' She turned from the headmistress back to Constance, who despite herself had turned a deadly shade of white.

'I think we need to talk,' she said seriously. Constance shook her head with the attitude of a stubborn child.

'Not now.'

'But Conn-'

'Perhaps it would be best,' Miss Cackle interjected quickly, 'if Miss Bat and Miss Drill take you on a tour of the school. I'm sure you'd like to see the place, given that you will probably be taking an active role in overseeing the evaluation.' Adelina nodded with an expression of understanding and walked up to her sister until they were mere inches apart

'It's good to see you Con,' she whispered, 'I'll explain everything, I promise.' With that she left, hanging her coat on a hook as she departed and disappearing beyond the door of the staffroom with the two other teachers. Miss Cackle and Miss Hardbroom were left alone.

'Constance...' Miss Cackle started, but she didn't know how to continue. There was not protocol in this sort of situation, no right thing to say in comfort or reassurance. Her heart and mind were being pulled in different directions. Her heart wanted to comfort a woman who she knew would be confused and in pain, with grief and emotion resurfacing from decades past and everything she had known to be true being called into question.

Yet her mind knew that Constance would not be mollycoddled, would never accept a kind embrace no matter how much she needed it. Amelia's eyes filled with tears which she had to hold back as she realised that she could feel the lost little girl within Constance Hardbroom crying, begging for someone to care of her and tell her that everything would be all right; but it was only herself that stood, blocking her own path through pride.

Amelia cleared her throat quietly.

'Constance are you all right?'

In truth the question was ridiculous, and would only incur the pantomime of deceit which played out every time the headmistress asked such a thing. Both women knew what Constance was going to say before she did.

'Fine, headmistress. I'm fine,' Constance replied. Of course it was a lie, but unlike her usual dishonesty this lie had no substance. The tone of her voice as the words escaped her lips was unquestionably sad, something Amelia had never heard in her tone before in such a way. It was as if she hadn't the energy to lie convincingly, repeating the words she was expected to say out of duty; but duty to whom? To herself? Or the headmistress? In all honesty Constance was lost, unsure of anything anymore and not quite able to adjust to the new world which seemed to have just formed around her.

The headmistress wanted to say the right thing, to offer some form of help to the younger woman who was so obviously suffering, but her thoughts were blocked by questions that only Constance, or Adelina, could answer.

'But how,' she started in a puzzled voice, 'how can she be here? I mean, you said-'

'I know what I said,' Constance interrupted. Amelia had expected her to snap, but was saddened further to hear that the usually so commanding voice sounded no more than tired.

Constance tried to think clearly, but the image of her sister's face as she had walked into the staffroom moments ago seemed to haunt her like a ghost roaming freely in her mind. Her life had been turned upside down in a matter of seconds and now she had nowhere to turn. Despite every question she had, every emotion which was coursing through her veins at a hundred miles an hour, only one thing seemed to be clear to her.

She wanted to be angry, to shout and scream at the lies and injustice which had plagued the better part of her life. She wanted to be relieved that the sister she had thought dead was back, was alive and well; she even wanted to be happy about it. But her entire body just felt empty. Adelina had tried at least, if not succeeded, to kill herself because of her. She had jumped with the knowledge that her sister had abandoned her, that she had nothing left to live for because of that; it was all because of her.

But Adelina had lived. Something had told her that when she had failed to extinguish her life's flame, there was something worth living for; and she had hated Constance too much even to tell her that she was alive. She had allowed her family to bury her, whilst living out her life in secret and taken her own path swathed in shadow and mystery. Constance had every right to be angry; Adelina had been selfish, allowing her own flesh and blood to think that she had died and never trying to find her until now.

Yet all she could feel was the overwhelming sensation that, somehow, it was all her fault; and she could swear that, despite whatever illness that was trying its best to do so, it was this that would kill her.

In the seconds that she tried to gather her thoughts, Constance felt the pain which cursed her temple return to her. It was sharp, stabbing and radiating throughout her skull with such force that her eyes were forced to flinch and give away what she wanted nobody else to know. Feeling the colour drain from her face, she raised a hand to her head and touched her throbbing temple gently. Even with the power of the spell she had cast over herself, one which forced her body to ignore the pain and carry on normally so that no-one else would suspect a thing, there was something about that sharp agony which forced her to react.

'Constance?' Amelia said gently. 'Constance are you-'

'Yes, yes I'm fine! For goodness sake, there are for more important things happening here than a headache,' she snapped with the defensive venom she always released when she was hiding that she was in trouble. Moving swiftly and confidently so as not to admit defeat, she sat at her usual place at the dining table and was less than surprised when Miss Cackle joined her.

'Look,' Constance conceded after a time of uncomfortable silence, 'I don't know what happened. I don't know how she can be here; all I know is that she is. They never...they never found a body, so I assume that she just allowed herself to disappear until she felt the time was right.' She didn't realise how hard it was to talk about it now, the time when she had lost everything in a matter of months; it still turned her stomach even now that she knew it had all been a lie.

'Why do you think she came back now?' asked Amelia. 'I mean...can you trust her?'

'She was always trustworthy,' Constance replied, not quite answering the question. She wanted to trust Adelina, but there seemed to be an invisible barrier compromising that trust. The simple answer was that she had waited all this time to return; anything could have happened in the years that she had been away. Or perhaps it was that sparkle in her eye. It was something she knew from childhood, but now it seemed changed. If the eyes were the gateway to the soul, were Adelina's the passage to the truth?

Constance felt something running down her face, something which stemmed from her nose. Reaching a finger of the hand which had been massaging her temple, she wiped the area above her upper lip and looked down to see glistening red blood shining back at her. It looked too dark with too much of a shine to be the blood of a simple nosebleed and she was not ignorant enough to think it was.

'Constance?' Looking up at the headmistress, Constance felt far too tired to explain.

'What's wrong?'

It was then that she realised that Miss Cackle couldn't see the blood now gently flowing across her face and she let a sigh of relief pass briefly across her lips.

'Nothing,' she said hurriedly, stumbling a little as she stood up, 'I have to go.'

'What are you going to do about Adelina?' inquired Amelia with a look of the deepest concern.

'Listen,' answered Constance wisely, with a stare which seemed too vacant, 'and hope that she can forgive me.'

Folding her arms across her chest, she disappeared from view and Amelia was left with a very familiar feeling that something was wrong, very wrong; something that she couldn't see yet was there all the same. She wondered what secrets her deputy was hiding behind that blank expression.

Xxx

Constance appeared in her room and let out a deep, long breath. She was aware that Amelia had sensed something, and knew that it wouldn't take her long to work out what was going on. The spell which concealed the truth of her plight was powerful and effective, but witches could often quickly grasp a concealment spell if they suspected one to be in place. It was like a sixth sense magical people possessed, the ability not only to use magic but to sense it. Until then, the headmistress had no reason to suspect a thing so would not even have guessed that such a spell could be being used, but now it was only a matter of time.

As lightning flashed outside, Constance caught a glimmer of something shimmering on her desk. Even the few steps across the room sent shooting pains down her tender spine, but she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning; now wasn't the time for useless displays of weakness. Reaching out she felt the cold metal of the locket against her fingertips and lifted it, entwining the gold chain around her fingers.

The meagre light from the window shone and reflected off the gold casing, the letters AH staring cruelly at her, mocking her. She wondered what it meant, the object itself, but feared most of all that it had been sent by someone who knew far more than she did about her own life and wanted to make her feel as if she was no longer in control. She rested the golden heart in the palm of her hand and felt its warmth spreading through her fingers. Constance placed the object down on the desk and thought for a moment about what it represented, a gift meant for love which had brought her such sadness.

After a while and forcing her aching limbs to move, Constance half staggered into the bathroom where she caught sight of her face in the mirror. As the one who had cast the spell, she could see her real image reflected in the truthful glass and was appalled by what she saw. Her eyes were dark, set deep in skin too pale pulled tightly across her bones. Her nose was bloody, the deep red liquid still trickling across her cracked lips and down her hollow cheeks.

She splashed water on her face, the almost icy coolness of it shocking and refreshing. Using a towel she cleaned her face, watching the pale red water swirl like a whirlpool in the marble basin and disappear down the plughole. As she straightened, she was forced to confront her own image once more. She needed to see.

With a wave of her hand, the basin vanished and the mirror extended until it reached the floor and showed her entire body as it was. Constance flexed her fingers once more and the jet black dress fell gracefully to the floor; it had barely been able to keep clinging to what seemed to be no more than bones. Allowing her hair to be free of its taught braided bun, Constance saw the sight of a broken woman.

It was all wrong. Hugging her elbows, Constance found her body almost shivering with disgust. Her arms and legs were no more than twigs which looked set to snap, her stomach concave where she hadn't eaten in almost two weeks. It couldn't be her, it just couldn't be. She looked old, her face that of a woman far passed her prime and entering the last stage before a lonely death, her body more frail and pathetic than it was possible to be. She should have been dead. That much she had worked out a long time ago. The only thing keeping her going was potions, a concoction of different brews which she took when she was sure that she couldn't carry on anymore.

The mirror shattered. Millions of glass fragments flew across the room, covering the floor in a sea of jagged diamonds as a solitary tear escaped from the corner of Constance's eye. She waved her hand once more and the basin was back, though the smaller mirror was not replaced on the wall. A sudden overwhelming sense of nausea overcame her and she ran across the broken glass to the sink, bending over and retching until her stomach expelled its contents across the white marble. She was surprised that anything would come, but for ten unthinkably long minutes she choked until her throat burned. She saw flecks of blood splash every now and again, but her eyes were mostly closed as tears escaped and flowed down her cheeks, falling helplessly to the floor. She couldn't help it. Her life had spiralled out of her control and all she could do was watch.

Xxx

Miss Cackle took the steaming mug of coffee into her freezing hands and passed it over to Adelina, who was now sitting in a chair close to the fire. She accepted it gratefully, blowing lightly on the steaming liquid before she took a sip. Amelia couldn't fault her positive pleasant demeanour, nor the way she seemed to instantly get on with both of the other teachers; yet something still didn't sit right. It was probably part of her nature, the instinct within her which wanted to protect Constance and saw Adelina only as a source of her deputy's pain. She couldn't trust Adelina.

'I didn't even know that Constance had a sister,' Miss Bat said as she sat down opposite the younger Hardbroom.

'No,' Adelina admitted sheepishly,' it's a very long story, but she didn't quite know that she still had one until today.'

'Oh,' whispered Davina, seeing at once a delicate matter which although she didn't understand, she knew she should not press into further. Not just yet anyway.

'I'm sure she will come around eventually,' Miss Drill interjected from where she stood beside Miss Cackle, 'she always does. She's always been...rather stubborn.' Adelina let a smile pass across her face, one which burned brightly in the fire's light.

'Yes I suppose she has,' she agreed, the smile still dancing in her eyes.

Curiosity got the better of Davina more quickly than she had anticipated it to. She felt that she had to ask the question at the back of all of their minds.

'What was she like?' she asked eagerly

'What do you mean?' replied Adelina gently.

'Really Davi-' Miss Cackle tried, but Miss Bat beat her to it.

'When she was little I mean, what was Constance like?' Adelina couldn't help but laugh, the sound fresh and intoxicating, almost infectious.

'I am sorry Adelina,' Amelia apologised on behalf of Miss Bat whose cheeks were flushing red with embarrassment and her eyes darted towards her cupboard.

'Oh it's fine, I don't mind,' chuckled Adelina. 'Well, she always wore black. I never really knew why, but all I can ever remember her wearing is black dresses. She was always working whenever she had the time. I think that she thought I didn't know, but late at night after I had gone to bed she would sit at her desk reading until all hours of the morning.'

'She was very patient. I wasn't the easiest of sisters to cope with; I had a horrible temper, but she always waited for me to calm down and read to me until I went to sleep. I suppose she was like a mother to me rather than a sister. She did everything for me, even if I didn't want her to and I made her life quite difficult. I think that's what I regret the most.' She finished her monologue in a wistful tone, lost in thought rather than in sadness and a small smile still lingering across her mouth.

'Very touching,' came a cool, unimpressed voice which seemed to ring from nowhere. Adelina jumped as Constance appeared before her with her arms folded and wearing that velvet black dress she had missed most of all in the years that she had been away.

'Constance,' Miss Cackle said in way of a greeting, 'would you like some coffee?'

'No thank you headmistress,' she replied quickly. Adelina opened her mouth as if to say something to her sister, but she was stopped just by Constance's unyielding glare.

'Not here,' Constance cut her off curtly. Adelina closed her mouth and rose from the chair, though before she could ask where they were going they had both vanished into nothingness.

'I can't ever imagine Constance being like that,' Imogen announced as she moved over to where Adelina had been sitting.

'Like what?' asked Amelia vaguely, though her mind was clearly elsewhere.

'Nice,' replied Imogen simply, stirring her tea as she settled by the warmth of the fire.

Xxx

Constance and Adelina appeared as if from nowhere in the cold and dripping dungeons, the floor still wet from where the storm water had found its way into the castle. Unused to travelling in this way, Adelina stumbled back a few steps and had to steady herself, watching in amazement as Constance remained in a perfect upright position as if it had been the most natural thing in the world. She couldn't know that within her own mind, waves of sickening dizziness were threatening to compromise Constance's ever stoic demeanour.

'Gracious Con, do you do that all the time? I'm surprised that everyone isn't terrified of you,' she said half jokingly, trying to catch her breath. Constance simply continued to stare at her, offering no reply and not even a flicker of emotion. Adelina sighed. She had been building up to this moment for months, years even, and she had never been able to think of quite the right words.

'I'm sorry,' Adelina whispered, her bottom lip quivering slightly as it always had done before she cried when she was a little girl.

'I shouldn't have...I didn't...I'm so sorry Connie.'

'Don't call me that,' insisted Constance with a monotonous tone which offered no sense of forgiveness. Adelina was at a loss. She didn't know how to react to a woman who gave her nothing, no hint of emotion even though she knew this had to be as hard, if not more so, for her sister as it was for her.

'What do you want me to say?' she begged, her voice starting to crack with emotion. 'I wasn't thinking straight, I shouldn't have left and I'm sorry. What more do you want from me?'

'I want nothing from you,' Constance replied dryly. Adelina let out a long frustrated sigh and ran her fingers through her thick brown hair.

'I wasn't in a very good place back then,' Adelina explained almost desperately, 'I wasn't well. You left for Witch Training College and...and I couldn't handle it.'

'So you tried to kill yourself,' Constance continued. Her voice held such power. It passed no judgement, held no emotion and that was the most painful thing for Adelina to hear. Constance was wise; she knew how to allow Adelina to tell her what she needed to know without asking, gaining the upper hand by saying next to nothing.

'I didn't know what else to do! I thought it would be better if I just...disappeared.'

Constance's blank, expressionless face turned in an instant to one of rage.

'You thought that it would be better,' she repeated, as if it was too beyond belief to be true, 'if you just disappeared?'

'Y-Yes,' Adelina replied, her voice shaking slightly. She felt like a pupil again, with Constance as her teacher disciplining her for her mistakes.

'You planned it. You never meant to kill yourself, you just wanted to run away and if everyone thought you were dead...'

'Then they wouldn't look for me,' Adelina confirmed, nodding sadly. Constance turned away from her sister with a hand to her mouth in disbelief. Realising that her fingers were beginning to tremble, she curled her hand into a fist and rested her chin upon it.

'I'm sorry, I really am. I never meant to hurt you-' Constance scoffed audibly, moving across to the bench where she sat looking down at the table's wooden surface.

'You never meant to hurt me,' Constance said quietly, 'but you allowed me to bury you, or at least your memory. I went to your funeral Adelina; I laid roses on your grave every Christmas because that was your favourite time of year. What did I ever do to you that was so awful that you wanted to forget me completely?'

'Nothing,' Adelina assured her, tears flowing freely down her pink cheeks, 'I told you, I wasn't well. You had left and there was nothing for me at home; I didn't know what to do. I thought that if I left and made it look like I...well then you could all get on with your lives and I could find my own way. I'd tried to jump before, that night when I found out you were leaving, so I thought it would be more believable that way.'

'Mother died thinking she'd lost a daughter,' Constance thought aloud, remembering the third funeral of that awful 18 months. She had lost everything, her entire family in the blink of an eye, and was left in the care of a witch who laughed when she dared to let a tear slip down her face.

'I know,' admitted Adelina sadly, 'but I was still young, young and naive, and I wasn't ready to face the world quite yet.'

'Where did you go? You were twelve years old with no other family and no money,' Constance asked.

'I just wandered for quite a bit, finding shelter wherever I could. After a few months, I ended up in hospital with a broken leg and I had an outburst. With everything that was going on, I couldn't control myself and I ended up in a specialist witch's psychiatric unit. They were some of the hardest days of my life, but I got through it.'

'When I was 16 they found me a job as a secretary at the Witch's Guild, and I got somewhere to live. From then on I had a pretty ordinary life, though I had to change my name of course. You were more famous in the Guild than Amanda Honeydew or any of the celebrity witches; your name was everywhere. I can't count how many letters asking you to join the Guild I must have processed in my time, or how many articles were written about the academy; that's how I found you in the end.'

'Why now?' It had been the only real question on Constance's mind. 'After all this time, after 20 years of thinking my sister had died, why did you come back?'

'I've been trying to build up the courage for so long. I have nearly flown down here so many times; I even made it halfway to the front gates once. I just didn't think I could face you after what I did, and I wanted to make sure I was well enough before I saw you. It hasn't been easy...'

'No,' Constance said with a note of finality, 'no it hasn't. It hasn't been easy with the guilt of thinking you caused your sister to kill herself weighing on your shoulders, wondering how old she would have been every time her birthday came around and wishing that it could have been me...I don't know why you decided to come here Adelina. Do you think I haven't suffered enough? Did you want to punish me even more?'

'Of course not! I just wanted to see you, to let you know that I was all right,' Adelina said, pleading for her trust.

'If you had wanted that, then you could have come here five or even ten years ago. I used to know you, Adelina, and now I don't; you made sure of that. You've changed.'

'And you haven't?' Adelina cried, her sadness turning quickly into rage. 'You won't even look at me.' It was true. Ever since she had sat at the bench, her eyes had not lifted to her sister's face but rested on where her hands lay before her. Looking up now, Adelina saw the ghost of tears swimming in Constance's eyes.

'I can't look at you because I cannot forgive you,' Constance said calmly, as if it was the simplest fact in the world.

'I can barely recognise you,' Adelina told her. 'You're so different. You were always hard working, always focused on what you wanted to do but you were never so...so cold.'

It hurt like she never thought it would, like a dagger through her fast paced heart and she was silenced. Constance knew who she was, how she had changed since her circumstances had become so desperate. In truth, ever since her father had died she had lost something, part of herself, which she had never quite been able to claw back.

'Even the other teachers, the people who are supposed to be your friends,' she continued, 'they think you're heartless. They laugh at you sometimes, did you know that? The way you are, the way you act; they find it funny. They say no wonder you haven't got a husband, because nobody could ever lo-'

'Stop it!' Constance shouted with the authority and power she was forced to yield over an incompetent class, her eyes fiery with anger as she looked deep into Adelina's eyes.

'They wouldn't say that,' she said certainly, though found herself speaking with the forced conviction of a naive child.

'Why would I lie?'

'It seems to be rather a force of habit with you,' Constance spat defensively.

'Oh Connie, you really have no idea do you? You don't know what people really think of you...or maybe you do, and you just don't want to admit it. It isn't hard to overhear what people really think when you're an innocent bystander.' Constance had known her sister to be many things, but her tone seemed to be more malicious as she went on, something she had never seen within her. Yes, they had both changed, but what had they become?

'I think that you should go,' Constance informed her finally, standing up after a long and uncomfortable silence. Adelina's face changed in an instant. Her expression had been distorted by twisted anger, but now it seemed sad and childlike.

'Oh God,' she muttered, putting her face in her hands, 'I knew I would do this, I knew that I would ruin everything.' Constance was startled, not sure how to handle such an unprecedented and delicate situation.

'What do you mean?' Adelina looked at her with her tear streaked face; somehow she still managed to seem beautiful despite her misery.

'I panic,' she explained, 'whenever I'm in a situation where I don't know what to do. I just knew that it would happen when I finally got to meet you, because I had no idea what I was going to say. It's like a curse really, but I shouldn't make excuses. Connie, I did a terrible thing and I can never apologise enough. I don't know how to make it up to you, I probably never will, but I didn't want to come here just to insult you; that was wrong of me. I just want you to know how much you mean to me, and how much the time we spent together before...before everything, made me a better person. I missed you.'

'I told you,' Constance started, 'not to call me Connie.' Adelina managed a small smile.

'Sorry,' she replied.

'Well, now you've said your piece I think it's time for you to leave,' Constance announced abruptly, walking past her sister to the stairway which led away from the dungeons. Adelina's face fell once more.

'Wait,' she half pleaded running after her, 'don't you think that we should talk? I mean, I've been 'dead' for twenty years and our first conversation after so long didn't go very well.' Constance turned on her heel to face Adelina.

'No, it did not,' she agreed. 'I don't think it would be advisable to continue with this now.'

Constance walked swiftly up the stairs, ignoring the dizziness as she walked by closing her eyes for the last few steps; Adelina had to run to keep up.

'Can I see you again?' she called after Constance who didn't even falter in her step despite her aching joints.

'Perhaps,' replied Constance vaguely, not giving anything else away in her tone.

'Please Con, don't shut me out,' begged Adelina. Constance stopped suddenly, so much so that Adelina almost bumped into her. She turned to Adelina with a serious expression, though the younger woman could see that in her eyes lay pain which had been forced to resurface. It was then that she started to appreciate exactly what she was putting Constance through just by being there.

'I can't,' Constance said sadly, 'I can't deal with all of this right now. I woke up this morning thinking that it was my fault, my burden to bear that you weren't here and now...It's a lot to take in and I need time. I can't promise that I can forgive you, but I can promise that I will try.'

A moment passed between them, the first warm moment in more than two decades, and it was as though for a second everything was forgotten. The weight of memories, of years alone and with nobody to turn to, would always obscure the bond which had once held them so tightly together but they could try if nothing more. Before Adelina could say anything else, Constance had folded her arms and vanished before her eyes.

Xxx

Appearing back in the staffroom, Constance felt the mood change quicker than the winds of a tumultuous storm. Everyone fell silent, only Miss Cackle able to hold her gaze and she had to consider whether what Adelina had been saying was true. She had never been particularly self conscious before, but now surrounded by the people she had always worked with, she had to wonder what they really thought of her.

Amelia started to ask how it had gone, but thought better of it and closed her mouth. She watched Constance move to the urn and begin to make a cup of tea, unable to take her gaze elsewhere. Constance filled her black mug with deep brown liquid, her ears sensing the words being muttered between Imogen and Davina as she did so in a tone too hushed even for her tuned hearing to gauge. It was a feeling, so strong and unnerving, that they were talking about her. She tried to shake away such thoughts; the last thing she needed now was the burden of paranoia to bear.

Stirring the tea, Constance smelt the sweet waves of smoke rising from the mug and allowed them to envelop her senses. At first, the gentle heat was soothing, like the gentle touch of someone who cared against her cheek; then everything changed. She felt the familiar trickle of something beneath her nose and, placing her mug on the table, Constance reached up to confirm what she almost already knew to be true. Seeing the blood once more on her fingertips filled her with something; it was not quite fear, not pain or dread, but something far deeper. It was an emotion which stemmed from her soul and took charge of her entire body without a second's thought.

Nausea gripped her like the unyielding hand of an abusive lover, churning her stomach until it seemed to flip over within her. Her face drained to a sickening pallor, one as grey as the unquiet dead and she moved swiftly and desperately to grab onto the table which was the only thing that kept her from falling shamelessly to the ground.

Miss Cackle saw it at once. She had sensed the concealment spell the day before, and now though she couldn't quite see through it she was aware of what it was trying to hide. Trying not to draw the attention of the other teachers, Amelia moved across the room to where Constance was leaning heavily.

'I'm-'

'No,' Amelia interrupted in a stern but quiet whisper before Constance could even begin her symphony of lies, 'no you really aren't.' Constance refused to look at her for a moment, not able to find any words that the headmistress would believe. A drop of blood fell from her nose and hit the table, splashing like the raindrops which pounded against the windows as the true rage of the storm outside began to reveal itself. Amelia saw it in an instance. Though she could not see what Constance truly looked like, once the droplet of blood had passed beyond the realms of the charm it became real and visible, as clear as day on the scrubbed wooden table. She could barely hear her own thoughts against the pounding of blood in her ears.

'I know you're using a spell,' she whispered hurriedly, 'I've suspected for days. You can't lie to me any more Constance I won't have it.' Constance turned her head so that her deep brown pools were looking right into Amelia's old grey eyes.

The look was so sad, so unbelievably sad, that Miss Cackle felt tears rising in her eyes just to see someone look so lost and helpless. It seemed as though, for the first time since she had known Miss Hardbroom, she was on the verge of tears with the whites of her eyes glistening brightly and the spark of wit and authority which was usually set permanently in her pupils faded to nothing.

'Please,' breathed Constance, 'please just...not now. I can't...' her plea was cut off as she closed her eyes, bending over slightly further and placing a hand over her abdomen which felt as if it was about to explode. When her eyes opened once more, the tears had formed in the corners of her eyes and were threatening to fall.

'Please Amelia,' she rasped, 'help m-' It was the first time she had such a thing in her entire life, and her words were cut off as the door swung open. Constance turned and straightened at once as Adelina entered the room, her hands behind her back clinging onto the table for dear life. Amelia swivelled around so that she was slightly in front of her deputy and greeted their guest with a reluctant smile. One of her soft, wrinkled hands reached back and touched Constance's in reassurance, a silent gesture which meant more than either would ever know.

'Sorry for inconveniencing you Miss Cackle,' Adelina apologised gently. 'The papers will need to be sent off within the next few days and I will take my leave now.' Unhooking her coat from a peg on the wall, she began buttoning it over her clothes when Miss Drill moved in her chair to look out of the window.

'But you can't leave now,' Imogen stated.

'Why not?' Amelia inquired a little more harshly than she had intended.

'Look at the weather! The heavens have opened it seems, and there's thunder and lightning every few seconds. I'm not an expert, but those aren't walking conditions let alone the sort of weather for flying in.'

Amelia had to agree. The weather was atrocious, turning more and more violent by the second and raging louder than a wounded lion.

'It seems you will be staying with us a little longer than expected, Adelina,' Miss Cackle said brightly, though that nagging thought was still with her in the very back of her mind telling her that this endeavour would only end in misery. She felt Constance's hand tense beneath hers.

The wind howled and raged, pummelling the trees until they begged for mercy. The sun was gone, cruelly taken from the world it so loved and locked behind an unyielding wall of cloud which would become its tomb. Someone, somewhere, looked out at the purple storm clouds and smiled a sickening smile which made even the insects run in fear. The birds were grounded, unable to fly through the relentless storm and the pupils of Cackle's Academy were trapped too. It didn't feel like it quite yet, but the castle would soon seem like their prison.

The worst was still to come.

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts anyone? Was it awful? Too long? Not long enough? Rather random nonsense?<strong>

**Any comments are much appreciated, and I must get out of the habit of early hour proof reading! Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed it.**

**HBR x**


	8. Chapter 8

**Oh I know that it may have been quite a while, but I am afraid it is a case of bear with it and the chapters will come eventually! In current situations I can say with no certainty when the next will be up but only that it will be in time :) I know, helpful!**

**Anyway, as I always say this is not perfect and there are probably 1 million continuity errors and suchlike. I have been working on this slowly over a couple of weeks now and have tried to keep it consistent so we shall see. Yes there are things that I would change but to be honest it says what I want it to say and beyond that who knows! **

**This chapter is for NCD without whom the last week may have torn me apart and to Princess Sammi who despite my terrible tendency to reply 2 weeks later is a brilliant person. **

**Enough rambling from me! It's a chapter, read it if you will and review if you are kind enough to share your thoughts! Thank you for reading and to everyone who has been kind enough to review so far; you are the reason I write at all.**

**Until next time, which should be before Easter... lol! Enjoy...**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

The elements were waging war against one another, like men in battle willing to fight and die for a cause they didn't truly understand yet thoughtlessly believed in. Mother nature, it seemed, was punishing the Earth below, destroying the very essence of nature itself as trees fell crashing to the ground leaving chaos and devastation in their wake. The sky was dark, the pitch black of night despite the fact that the world had long since left the limitations of slumber; something was very wrong.

They did not know what they were fighting for; had they known then they would have shuddered in self loathing, damning their souls for what they were aiding. Ignorance was, in this case at least, bliss. That reasoning would stand until the final judgement.

The sun was gone, the first casualty of a seemingly never ending conflict which was about to tear entire the world apart. The architect of this anarchy hid, cloaked beneath its own creation and laughing coldly as it watched its ideas unfold and the inevitable destruction take over all logic and reason.

In spite of the apocalyptic storm which was beginning to rage far out of control, there was a figure clad in black slipping between the masking shadows. It crouched amongst the trees, knowing perfectly well that the weather was not the only battle which was being waged; some were not even aware that they were fighting. There was a plan, a terrible plan, which had to be followed for the greater good: nothing could go wrong.

Pulling a travelling cloak tighter around its shoulders, the figure braced itself against the thick trunk of a grand oak tree older than any others which surrounded it and looked up at it in awe. Tonight was not the night that it would end, though that night was not far away; no. Tonight would be the night that it began. It would begin in the darkness after this pitiful day had ended, and all would become clear.

Xxx

The room was both unbearably loud yet impossibly silent both at once. A pin could be heard dropping to the floor, its sound ringing when no other dared to ring, yet the chaos of the storm still echoed as the window shutters rattled and the rain which pounded the roof became so violent that it was as though the heavens themselves had fallen to Earth and the Gods were pummelling their angered fists against the slate in protest.

No-one knew quite what to say. It was a room of doubt, one of lies and secrets and untold stories which could change how the world would turn with the power they held.

Xxx

The warm, careful blue of Amelia's eyes caught Adelina's for less than a moment; she couldn't help but wonder. That look, so bright and youthful shining like cat's eyes in the dark with the eager anticipation of someone on the cusp of their prime, was almost beyond explanation.

Yet they were not just bright, not just shining, but shimmering – the shimmer of a veil which could conceal a thousand sins. Behind that lay darkness, a disturbing depth which felt like it reached into the bottom of a never ending well; they were so clear and yet unfathomable.

The headmistress allowed her brow furrow, if just for a second. She didn't trust those eyes. Adelina was not a dislikeable person, very bright and bubbly with a huge smile always plastered across her face. It was whether that smile was genuine which would answer the questions which so desperately needed resolution. There are some things in this world that need to be known, and some things that cannot. Whatever Adelina knew, it was devastating; beyond that, it was a mystery.

Xxx

Adelina could feel Miss Cackle's gaze as it locked onto her own, the sense of being judged taking over her body. Although the opposite of Constance in almost every way, she had picked up one or two of her sister's traits. For one thing, she did not allow people to know what she was thinking. It was a weakness which gave away more about herself than she wished for people to know – it was dangerous. There were some secrets which were too burning hot to do anything more than scorch the innocent.

She looked over to Constance. It was almost laughable that her older sibling thought that it was not plain for anyone to see; the way her posture was dipping ever so slightly on one side, how her hands trembled where she gripped the table...it all pointed judgementally to one thing; both unpredictable yet blindingly obvious. She wanted to feel differently, but she couldn't. Something was telling her how to feel, forcing her emotions to the forefront of her mind; it was terrifying. Adelina Hardbroom had been 'dead' for twenty years; now, much more than her physical form seemed to be returning.

Xxx

Constance closed her eyes for the briefest time, yet when she opened them the world was no more than a blur. Through the haze, she could make out Adelina; it was as if she could feel her eyes bearing into her. She couldn't possibly see through the enchantment, so why was she watching her? Perhaps she was not being quite as subtle as she had hoped that she could be.

The nausea in her stomach had grown like a virus, invading her entire body and taking it for its own kingdom. Her head felt so heavy. Her neck ached from nothing more than the effort of holding her head high and her legs were fighting not to wobble as she struggled even to hold her own weight. The pain felt as if it was about to split her skull in two, burning white hot through her head and clouding her thoughts in a fog of pain. She needed to get out of there, that much was clear, but with everybody watching her it seemed impossible to slip away unnoticed.

Xxx

Amelia did not trust Adelina. She could not quite understand why herself, but there was something about her that was not quite right - she saw it now. That said she was not unwilling to give her a chance. She had learnt, in her many years of listening to others, that one judged simply on first appearances had the great tendency to surprise you; Mildred Hubble was the perfect example of that.

She wanted to worry about the new arrival, of her intentions and her secrets; she felt it her duty. Yet her thoughts were distracted as she felt Constance's hand slip a little beneath her own, struggling to retain its grip on the wooden table. Her fingers were freezing cold, trembling slightly in shock; she needed to help Constance escape this prison of a room before it was too late. Her first duty would always be to her.

'Well,' Amelia announced, clearing the silence which had been sitting uncomfortably for a little too long, 'I think that Mr Blossom will have been able to repair most of the water damage by now. Constance, will you assist me in ensuring that everything is safe and secure?'

She saw Constance straighten painfully at the mention of her name, nodding swiftly. It broke her heart. Turning to the others, she smiled reluctantly at the younger Hardbroom.

'Adelina, could I ask a favour of you?'

'Of course Miss Cackle,' she replied brightly. 'Anything I can do to help!'

'If you would be so kind, I think that Imogen and Davina may need some help in providing the girls with some lunch. I think that it would be best if the rest of the afternoon was spent trying to clean up the damage rather than in lessons; I have the feeling that there will not be much achieved in the way of learning until tomorrow.' Amelia's eyes caught Davina's for a while, not quite giving everything away but enough for her to know better than to question.

'Yes, headmistress,' Miss Bat agreed hurriedly, 'that would be best. We shall get to it right away.'

Adelina's features softened into another of her unforgiving smiles before she followed the other two teachers out of the door and out of sight. Before she left, she looked to Constance and felt so many different feelings bubbling painfully in her chest. So many things were still left unsaid.

Xxx

When Constance was sure that they had gone, she allowed her perfect posture to slip a little with a barely stifled groan. Amelia turned to her with terror shining in her eyes; she could not bear to see such an awful sight.

'Constance...' she whispered, her vision blurred by tears. Placing a hand softly on the deputy headmistress' shoulder, she felt the younger woman stiffen for a moment before giving in. She hadn't the energy to fight the only one who could help her.

'Constance you need a doc-'

'Dungeons,' she breathed, only taking in shallow bursts of air as her chest became heavy, 'not here...might come back.'

She closed her eyes and they both vanished, reappearing half a second later in the dungeons. Once her feet were planted firmly on the ground again, she felt them begin to buckle beneath her meagre weight. Constance swayed for a moment on the spot, the rise and fall of an elegant dancer caught up in a waltz, before collapsing heavily onto the wooden bench closest to her. Wincing as the unyielding wood collided with her ribcage, she tried to take control of the impossible pain which seemed to be forming a power greater than her own.

Miss Cackle watched her, every second of suffering she saw bringing more determination to her heart.

She had heard the start of a desperate plea escape her friend's lips and she was not about to let it go unheard.

'Constance please,' she started, 'we need to get you a doctor.'

'I'll b-be all right I j-just need to sit d-down for a moment,' muttered Constance. Her words were barely strong enough to escape from her lips. She reached a shaking hand, trembling like the quivering hands of an elderly woman in her painful dying days, to her bloody nose and watched her fingers become quickly decorated with shining rubies.

'I might have believed you once,' Amelia told her, taking a seat on the other side of the bench where Constance had half collapsed, 'but you cannot expect me to let you carry on like this.'

'I have to,' replied Constance simply.

'No,' assured the headmistress, 'no you don't.'

Amelia sighed.

'You don't have to pretend, you know. You asked me to help you, don't think that I didn't hear it. You asked me for help and I intend to give it...but I can hardly do that if you won't even show me what is wrong.'

'I d-don't know w-wh-'

Amelia silenced her with no more than a raised eyebrow. It was a lie that she would never have been able to tell convincingly, and the truth was that she didn't want to pretend to be all right anymore. Constance Hardbroom was breaking.

'It's okay,' Amelia comforted her. 'I've known about the spell for some time now and I know that you are hiding something. To me you look perfectly fine but I know...well I know that you aren't.'

Reluctantly, Constance raised her unsteady hands and took a sharp intake of breath as she cast the spell which would cancel out that which concealed her true appearance and forced her, in spite of her pain, to act as she normally would. Her fingertips were on fire, immersed in the burning magic which seemed to be turning against her; if she did not have control over her own power, then she was truly lost.

The veil fell, her final frontier crumbling to nothing, to less than ashes floating on a midnight breeze. Constance lowered her head and closed her eyes, unable to look her only friend in the eye as she showed her what she had never wanted anyone to see. If it hadn't been her last hope, then she would never have burdened Amelia, but in all honesty it had come to be the only thing that she could do.

She couldn't even gasp. Amelia's eyes took in the woman before her, sitting with her heart held out and beating pitifully in her hands, but her mind could not accept it. This was not the woman that she knew. She wasn't even recognisable.

Constance was thinner than Amelia had thought it possible to be, her dress clinging helplessly to her bones and her cheeks hollowed from near starvation. The dark circles hanging heavily beneath her eyes showed how the comfort of sleep was one which had long since left her, contrasting the impossibly ghostly pallor of her deathly white skin. The only colour in her face was the blood still lingering beneath her nose.

Anyone could see that she was falling apart. The only shadow of her strength lay twisted in the bun which still stood tall atop her head, yet one loose strand which had fallen across her ivory face foretold its demise. Miss Cackle could not help it as the tears fell across her face. She could see the pain in her posture, how her hands were curled into fists with knuckles whiter than snow in a last attempt to fight the agony. The desperation, the longing to try and keep everything together emanated from her like an aura calling out for someone to release her from such a terrible imprisonment.

'Oh God,' she whispered, 'oh Constance-'

'Don't...just don't,' pleaded the younger witch. 'I can't bear it.'

'Why didn't you show me this before?'

'How could I?' replied Constance, opening her heavy eyes with reluctance. 'And anyway what would you have done about it?'

'I would have done anything, anything that I could; how long have you been keeping this a secret?' Amelia asked in awe.

'I've lost count of the days,' admitted Constance. 'I don't know exactly. A month, maybe two I couldn't say for certain. The problem is that I don't know what _this_ is, so I...I don't know how to fight it.'

'Could we not find someone, a healer or-'

'No,' Constance interjected quickly, her dark and flashing eyes catching the headmistress'. 'I don't need everybody knowing what is wrong with me and besides, I know almost as much about magical illnesses as any doctor could. I've looked in every book, studied every symptom tried every potion – none of it works, not even in the slightest.'

Amelia shook her head defiantly, unable to accept the defeated undertones of her deputy's words.

'You can't go on like this. How can you be happy living in this way?'

Constance gave a small and bitter laugh, one which pulsed throughout her entire body and strengthened the dull ache which never seemed to leave. She really didn't know...

'Amelia,' Constance said kindly, 'I haven't been happy in a very long time; I can't remember the last time that I smiled and actually meant it.'

'But that isn't what is important here,' she finished quickly.

'It's the most important thing in the world,' Amelia told her sadly, taking her trembling hands in her own. She was met with no resistance.

'Not to me,' Constance lied.

Without so much as a warning, a pain which burned with the intensity of a newborn star shot across Constance's abdomen. It felt as though she was dying, such blinding agony seeming to remove her from the confines of consciousness to plunge her into the depths of uncertainty and darkness. Instinctively she doubled over, removing one of her hands from Amelia's grasp to lie across her burning stomach. With the other she held tightly to the only steady thing in her life, her truest friend.

'Constance!' screamed Amelia, holding on tightly to her deputy's hand which seemed to desperately cling to hers as she battled her inner demons. Constance had screwed her eyes shut and could not help but let a dying scream escape her trembling lips. Every time her body began to fail her, it felt more and more like the final battle. Now more than ever, she wished that it was all over.

Eventually, after what could have been a lifetime, the pain relinquished its hold and receded, leaving behind it the full knowledge that it could, and would, return at the drop of a hat. Breathing heavily, Constance felt the world return around her. She could hear Amelia talking quickly to her, though her words were muffled by the ringing in her ears, and could feel the bench supporting her weight once more.

Managing to open her eyes, Constance looked at Amelia.

'Please,' begged Miss Cackle, 'please...let me help, I'll do anything. I cannot stand to see you in this way; there must be something that I can do.'

Constance shook her head.

'You c-can't help me,' she whispered, her voice lacking any true conviction.

'Then why did you show me? Why did you ask me for help?'

'Because...' She couldn't bear to finish the sentence. The truth was that it had been because she was desperate. Hanging on to such a terrible secret had taken almost as much of a toll as the mysterious infliction, an illness which made its presence clear and yet refused to conform to any typical ailment. But how could she say that? She had already fallen apart before the only woman she could trust. She would not lose her dignity to her as well; at least not until she was beyond hope itself.

'I'll do anything,' Amelia offered, tears spilling down her face like an authors words across a blank page. Her love defined her, made her stronger, yet now it felt so strong that it could overcome her.

'I need you,' breathed Constance slowly, 'to give me time.'

'Time?'

'Yes,' she explained. 'I need you to make sure that the others don't find out about this. They cannot know until I have it under control, but before I know what is happening there is very little that I can do.'

Amelia opened her mouth to argue, but closed it once more. She realised what Constance was really saying. It was not just that she needed someone to cover her tracks for the others, but that she needed somebody who understood, who knew what was happening and would know why she acted as she did. She needed an ally, but more than that a friend and someone to turn to. She needed help, but she could not bear to ask for it in all of its shameful vulnerability aloud.

'Of course,' Miss Cackle agreed, 'anything that I can do...but on one condition.'

'Yes?' Constance asked tiredly, rubbing her aching forehead with her free hand.

'You have to rest, for at least an hour.'

'Oh Amelia I-'

'No buts!' insisted the elder witch. 'You need some time to get yourself together, and now is the perfect time to do so; nobody will even notice that you are gone.'

'I am perfectly fi-' Constance started, attempting to stand up from the bench to prove her strength. Conversely, she failed to hold even her own dwindling frame and felt all of the blood in her body rush to her head. Everything went dark.

Amelia ran to Constance just in time to catch her, watching hopelessly as the eyes of her deputy fluttered closed. She was barely the weight of one of the students, less perhaps, with her ribs visible even through the thick velvet of her dress. Miss Cackle gently sank to her knees to lay Constance on the floor and brushed the loose hair from her eyes. With a flick of her wrist, she removed the dried blood from the young woman's face and took her freezing hand.

'It will be all right,' she whispered, 'I promise.'

Xxx

With great difficulty, Amelia performed a number of enchantments over Constance's body and her own. She had never realised how great the magic needed to transport living people was; she wondered how Constance managed it every day. They appeared in Constance's bedroom, her inner sanctum which was never to be breached yet now seemed purged of all purpose.

Amelia carried Constance with far too much ease to the bed and lay her gently over the covers, conjuring a cashmere blanket to keep her warm. She fastened the rattling shutters closed to keep the storm at bay, though she feared that even such ferocity of nature would not wake the helpless beauty before her.

_If only she knew how much I cared for her, _thought Amelia sadly. Perhaps then she would not be so guarded, so cold; she is because she feels that she has to be, only she doesn't...

Squeezing Constance's hand one more time, Amelia left her in peace wiping the tears from her eyes and hoped to God that there was an answer, as she had only questions.

Xxx

The storm was the perfect cover. She was asleep. The ideal chance to show her, to tell her, to begin it all. It would take less than a second and nobody would ever know; of course she would never tell. She was too secretive, to ice cold to trust anybody else.

It would begin tonight, as the cold cruel laugh echoed in the bedroom. It would begin.

Xxx

Amelia stood outside her office with one hand on the wooden door, bracing herself before she went in. She had cleared her expression of the emotion which was still destroying her beneath the surface; perhaps she and Constance weren't so dissimilar after all. The only difference was that she hid hear fears with a smile instead of a harsh word. Breathing deeply, she pushed the door open hoping that a few hours of dull paperwork would take her mind off things.

'Oh hello Miss Cackle.'

Amelia gasped aloud before weakly smiling.

'Sorry Adelina, I did not realise that you were in here,' she said kindly. Adelina had been sitting at her desk looking out of the window, her hands playing with a gold necklace around her neck before she noticed the headmistress come in. Rising to her feet, she walked slowly closer to Miss Cackle.

'No no, it's my fault,' she admitted. 'I just wondered if I could ask you something?'

Amelia looked deeply into those unfathomable eyes and saw nothing, not even a flicker of emotion behind them. She controlled her expression and words with an almost pre-rehearsed perfection; it was close to an inhuman trait.

'Of course,' Amelia invited, moving around Adelina to sit at her desk. She wanted to be in control at least on rank of authority within the school.

'I...it's rather delicate,' she said softly, looking down at her feet for a moment.

Amelia heard something in her voice that made her question her earlier judgement. The woman who had been so unwilling to give anything away, even a hint of her true self, seemed to be wavering before her. When their eyes met again, they were not the shimmering veils of concealment that they had first appeared. The glimmer was gone, replaced by the watery eyes of a woman deeply frightened by something. For the first time, Amelia could see into her soul...and it was crying out to be heard.

'Whenever you are ready,' offered Miss Cackle gently, letting her own facade slip a little as her guard began to fall.

'It's...it's about Constance,' Adelina explained. 'We talked, before in the dungeons, and I told her everything - yet she seemed so very unwilling to listen.'

_Because she had other things on her mind,_ thought Amelia sadly.

'I thought that she would be able to forgive me, but I don't think that she can,' confessed Adelina, a solitary tear breaking free and falling across her unspoiled features.

'I believe that with Constance, everything takes a little more time than with other people,' the older woman said wisely. 'Constance wouldn't give up on you. You are her sister and she was very upset by what happened all those years ago, but she feels hurt knowing that you have lied to her and kept things from her...It is not something that she likes to admit to, being hurt.'

'Yes, I suppose,' agreed Adelina. 'She seems so different to how she was when we were children. Something changed her, and I don't think I could bear it if it was all down to me.'

Amelia pondered a moment and made a careful decision.

'I think that your supposed death did affect Constance, of course it would to any sibling, but I do not believe that you are her only demon.'

'What do you mean?'

The elder witch sighed.

'I mean that a lot has happened since you have been away. I don't know much more than you do, but Constance might open up to you.'

'She can't even bear to look at me,' whispered Adelina sadly, averting her gaze shamefully once more.

'She will eventually,' assured Amelia softly, 'trust me, she will.'

'May I ask...' started the headmistress after a moment.

'Why I did it?' finished Adelina.

'Yes.'

It had been playing on her mind, the one question which seemed to evade all answers.

'Because I had to,' the younger woman admitted quietly. 'I was going to do it, to kill myself because nothing else in the world seemed to matter, but it must have been my magic that saved me. It was as if it was in tune with my soul. It knew that, deep down, I didn't want to harm myself so when I fell my landing was cushioned. I survived the fall, but I knew that I couldn't just come back.'

'Things had changed, they weren't how they used to be with Constance gone. I thought, I hoped, that they would be able to start again without me. I had always been the burden, holding Constance back from her true potential and forcing my parents to tend to me when I should have been able to take care of myself. I wanted my own life, a life where I didn't depend on anybody and I was a burden to no-one.'

'But why did you wait until now to see her?'

'I have thought about it every day,' Adelina smiled, 'and every day I have thought of coming back, but I knew that she wouldn't be able to forgive me. When I saw her name on the assignment, the school's name, then I convinced myself that she would be able to see past the lies and see, well, me.'

Amelia walked over to Adelina, whose lips were trembling, and put a reassuring hand on her arm.

'It will be all right,' she assured the younger witch, 'you just need to give it time. This is only the first step, and whilst you are staying here there will be plenty of chances for you to work out your differences.'

'Oh but I don't want to intrude-'Miss Cackle shook her head.

'I insist,' she commanded. 'You have to stay anyway whilst the storm subsides and you can take as long as you need to sort things out with Constance; I dare say that it will be good for her.'

'Well if I am here, then perhaps I could help?' Adelina suggested.

'How so?'

'I have a little teaching experience; not much, but enough that I could be of some assistance if I were ever needed.' Miss Cackle gave her arm a gentle squeeze and smiled, one of the first genuine smiles she had given all day.

'That would be wonderful Adelina, thank you.'

'I better go and see if Miss Bat and Miss Drill need any help,' she said, wiping her eyes vigorously. Her eyes were shining again, yet now they held a hint of vulnerability; it made her human.

'Thank you, Miss Cackle.'

'Please, call me Amelia.'

'Thank you Amelia.'

As she left, Amelia felt her heart rest a little lighter in her chest. She had worried about the impromptu arrival of someone who had been missing for twenty years and the devastation it seemed to cause, but having seen the side to Adelina that she wished Constance herself would relinquish she could not deny that the younger Hardbroom was just as innocent as any of them. Her bright smiles were the same as Constance's mask, something to hide her fears and something which she used to make other people trust her.

For better or for worse, it had worked on the headmistress.

Xxx

Blood...so much blood. It tainted the walls, great pools spreading across the floor like river water breaking its banks and flooding the surrounding land. It sparkled in the silent sunlight, grotesque and yet beautiful at the same time. A laugh broke the silence, and something too muffled whispered in an ear as the bright sunshine faded to darkness. The final darkness.

Xxx

Constance jerked awake, feeling sweat tickling her forehead. Her body was heavy, a dull ache pounding with every beat of her heart, yet she could not deny that even a short period of disturbed sleep was a luxury. It made a difference, for now at least, and she would make use of it.

Dragging herself to her feet, she felt shame overcome her as she realised that it must have been Amelia that had brought her to her room. It had been hard enough to show her even part of the truth, and now she had given away the untempered nature of her plight.

Constance knew what Amelia was trying to do. She wanted to mother her, to help her and tell her how everything was going to be all right; it never would be. Letting go of her secret was admittedly somewhat of a relief, but no matter how much anybody tried to help it was still her burden to bear. Only she could know how she felt, the emotions which pummelled at her heart until she could hardly stand it anymore.

She was screaming, yet no-one could hear her. Small things, insignificant things, would sometimes give her away; a harsh word where it wasn't needed or a moment stood staring at seemingly nothing as she wondered about an uncertain future. Yes Amelia knew what was happening to her and she thought that she could help, but there was nothing that she could do. This was her battle, but she was losing. Even Constance could recognise, if only for her own acknowledgement, that she could not win.

Breathing heavily, Constance reached to the uncomfortable knot which was still tied on top of her head; it was starting to come loose. Giving in to it, she released her hair from its ties and let it cascade down her back.

With a wave of her hand she conjured a mirror on the baron stone wall and flinched as she took in her own reflection. She looked into the glass and saw the shadow of a girl she had been twenty years ago, locked in a room with no-one to turn to and nowhere to go but the depths of the dungeons every day where Mistress Broomhead would wait for her. Time travelled in circles, it seemed, and now she was that frightened little girl again with everything to prove and everything to hide; the only difference this time was Mistress Broomhead's presence.

Unable to face her past staring back at her, Constance lowered her head to the ground. It was then that she noticed something glint in the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she saw a small metallic object beside the bookcase barely visible in the dim light. Unsteadily she ambled over and bent down, feeling the cold metal against her fingers as she held the object in her hand.

As she straightened, she opened her palm to see what had fallen to the ground: it was a key. No longer than a matchstick and as light as a silver feather, it stared at her willing for her to uncover its meaning. She did.

Constance's hands began to shake. The key crashed to the floor, a sound which shattered the silence surrounding it and fractured it into a million pieces, too many to put back together. Constance stared at the place where they key had been, as if it had left a mark on her porcelain skin. It all made sense to her now, she finally understood. Well, she could at least understand why.

Reaching a trembling hand to her mouth, she realised that tears were forming in her eyes. She let them fall. What else could she do? What power had she to stop them? Whatever her meagre hopes had been before, now Constance knew that there was no way out. There was nothing which could help her - no spell or potion, no kind word from a friend. Her life had ended, already written off like a worthless memory disguarded to nothingness.

She was in awe. After all this time, she had almost managed to forget yet now the truth crashed over like waves on a midnight beach. Flashes of memories which she had tried so desperately to dismiss came back to her, taunting her with impossibly vivid clarity. She would never be free.

Still in a state of shock, Constance moved back to the mirror; there was that girl again, staring back at her and reminding her of who she really was. She could pretend for however long she cared to, but this was her true self; frightened, alone and worthless.

Constance brushed her hair behind her ears and watched the tears fall across her pathetic face. She had to replace the mask which had shattered, yet it was further now from the truth than it ever had been. She raised her hand, holding it an inch from her face and allowing her magic to cover the scars, the dark circles and the bloodshot eyes; something was wrong. Her fingers recoiled as they burned, searing white hot with pain. This was her punishment. No longer could physical torture appease whatever was tearing her apart, but now she had to suffer for the only thing in life she was proud of.

She cast again, slowly covering her pain whilst creating it anew. Constance felt, as she cried, almost as if she deserved it. She deserved the pain for what she had done, for what had been done to her; it was all her fault. And now she would pay the price.

Xxx

Adelina walked into the dungeons to see Miss Drill and half of the third year mopping the floors to try and drain the water still left from the storm's flooding.

'Anything I can do to help?'

'I think that we are just about done here actually,' Imogen told her, 'though I think that Miss Bat might be able to use some help in the broom shed. Some of the brooms are trying to get out of their hut and fly away from the storm like birds flying south for the winter!'

Adelina laughed, her eyes entire face lighting up as her eyes sparkled.

'Of course, I will go and help her in a moment. Have you seen Constance at all?'

'No I'm afraid that I haven't,' Miss Drill admitted. 'It's been a while actually, I wonder where she has got to.'

'Oh I'm sure that she has a huge pile of work to do somewhere,' smiled Adelina, yet not quite as powerfully as before.

'I don't suppose that you've noticed anything, Miss Drill?'

'Regarding what exactly?'

'Well,' explained the younger woman, 'I can't quite put my finger on it. I know that we clashed when she arrived, almost expectedly, but she seems...I don't really know. Distant I suppose. As if she's hiding something.'

'She has had a lot to cope with, seeing you after all this time,' offered Imogen. Adelina nodded in agreement.

'I know what you mean,' she said, 'but I'm protective over her you see. I want us to start again, but she won't let me. I thought, at first, that it was just me, but now I think it might be something else.'

'Like what?' asked the PE teacher.

'A secret,' whispered Adelina, so as not to be heard by the other students, 'something which she wouldn't even tell her own flesh and blood. All I can tell is that something is wrong, and it is taking its toll. Has she seemed any different at all these past weeks?'

Imogen thought back, of comments made in the staffroom with hushed tones and Amelia's concerns. Was Adelina onto something? Miss Cackle had certainly been worried about Constance these past few days, perhaps longer. In truth Miss Drill had only suspected a disturbance with her colleague, but now something churned uncomfortably in her stomach. Something which felt much graver and darker than anything she had thought of previously.

As though she knew the precise moment in which to appear, Constance materialised before them causing both women and many of the girls to jump in her wake. She hovered a foot or so above the still drying ground and had her arms folded with a look of dissatisfaction on her face.

'Are we close to finishing up down here Miss Drill?' she asked tiresomely.

'Y-yes, Miss Hardbroom, just a few more minutes,' Imogen replied, her heart beating as she wondered how much the powerful witch had heard.

'At least someone is being of use today,' Constance muttered, mostly for her own benefit. She was trying her best to seem normal, making an appearance for nothing more than appearances sake, but it felt all wrong. Without warning, the invisible force keeping her in the air seemed to fail and she had to steady herself as her feet landed hard on the floor.

'Are you all right Con?' Adelina squeaked, unable to hide her concern as she watched her sister wobble unsteadily, fighting to regain control.

'Perfectly,' Constance assured her, yet she could not even gather assurance in her own tone of voice. She could feel it, the strangest of sensations pulling her physically from where she was standing. Her magic was betraying her for the first time in her life, and she feared that if she didn't get out of the dungeons soon then she would need to be carried; she couldn't bear that again, it was too much.

'I'm sorry,' she said hurriedly for one of the first times in her life, 'but there is much more to do before this place is habitable again. If you will excuse me...'

With that she vanished, not completely of her own free will, leaving a stunned Miss Drill staring open mouthed at Adelina.

'See?' The young witch whispered, twiddling the gold necklace around her neck nervously between her thumb and forefinger.

Xxx

Constance appeared on the landing outside her room, clutching her chest as she gasped for breath. Her body forced her to double over, the ache of standing straight too much to bear. It felt as though something else had control over her. It had brought her to this place, used her own magic to transport her there, and now was close to bringing her to her knees.

Amelia.

She couldn't return to her room. People would look for her there if...if anything were to happen and then she would be discovered. No. She needed to find Amelia, to tell her to keep the others away whilst she tried to get herself together; it was the only way she could be sure that her secrets were left uncompromised. That...and she really needed a sympathetic ear: a friend. Everything was such a mess.

Constance staggered along the corridor, one hand across her burning abdomen and the other supporting her frame against the wall. Every step felt as if it took a hundred years yet brought her no closer to where she needed to be. For minutes at a time she was rooted to the spot as darkness clouded her vision, threatening to take over.

She could feel her magic smouldering inside her, a rogue flame burning brightly at another's hand. It was almost easier for Constance to fight everything else and everyone else trying to inhibit her, but fighting her own magic was something too devastating for even her to bear. She had dealt with many things in her life, but being forced to question her own origins, her own life and her own purpose, was beginning to defeat her.

In a fraction of a second, Constance's magic took hold of her physical form and shattered it into a thousand pieces, pulling each across the castle at its will with her powerless to stop it. She appeared at the top of the stairs which wound down from the vacant girls dormitories to the corridor beside the dungeons. Her mind flashed back, her eyes forced to watch herself being pushed to the floor by the manifestation of her darkest nightmares.

'Stay down where you belong,' hissed Heckitty. 'You are worth nothing, a pathetic shadow of a girl...you should wish that you had never been born; it would have been kinder on your family.'

Constance could not recall what she had done, yet as she snapped back into reality she flinched a little remembering how she had received the pearly white scar which ran across her back.

She knew what was going to happen before it did. The pain came over her like a hunter's net pinning down a defenceless animal. It pushed her to the brink of her capabilities, the very edge of what it was possible for her to stand, and the darkness returned if just for a moment.

Breathing heavily, Constance forced her eyes open. She had only the energy to say one more thing before the inevitable occurred.

'Amelia...'

She fell.

Like a graceful ballerina, her body went limp as her fragile form succumbed to whatever was bending it to its will. Gravity took hold as she fell through the air, pulling her closer to the sickening crunch of flesh meeting stone. Constance's mind was floating, detached from what she was forced to watch happen to her yet feeling every movement and every pain as if she was reliving it a hundred times over. Her weak ribcage crashed against the unyielding stairs, her legs twisting and a trail of scarlet like a royal's red carpet unfolding in her wake.

It only ended when her porcelain head smashed hard against the floor, her body sprawling elegantly after her over the tarnished red ground. The darkness came. It was more than welcome. Her head cradled in a pool of the deepest ruby red, she was allowed to sleep without a dream though every second of it brought her closer to what she feared the most. Her spells faded, her magic receding for now yet lingering to await instruction; for now it would do nothing more than force her down further into the darkness and ensure that she slept, floating in a sea of agony and slowly drowning in its depths.

Constance's eyes closed. Her breathing was slowing, her battered body bruised with the most beautiful shade of purple against the deathly white.

A lonely tear slipped from its weakened ties.

She was alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for another minor cliffhanger, but well I had to stop it there really! Would love to know what you thought so anything would be helpful. As I said unsure when the next will be but it is coming! One day...<strong>

**Thanks and hope you enjoyed!**

**HBR**

**X**


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